


Buried Like Treasure

by QuickedWeen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Avalanches, Blow Jobs, Heist, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Modern Royalty, Nerd Harry, Prince Harry Styles, Restraints, Rimming, Self-Bondage, Shibari, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Sub Harry, Swiss Alps, Thief Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 40,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickedWeen/pseuds/QuickedWeen
Summary: Prince Harry Styles is very private. He chooses to keep himself out of the public eye but feels lonely and isolated while surrounded by people in his hectic royal life. When he finishes his dissertation, he decides to take a solo holiday to one of the royal family's properties in the Swiss Alps.Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCellarDoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCellarDoor/gifts).



> I was beyond excited when I received these prompts, they were terrific! This one grabbed my attention and didn't let go.
> 
> A few notes:  
> \- For the Marcel fans: just wait!  
> \- This fic centers around Harry's desire to explore the idea of being restrained. If you have any questions about consent, or anything like that, please leave a comment and I'll do my best to answer it.  
> \- That being said, I did my best with the self-bondage and shibari research, but if you see anything that is inaccurate, please let me know. 
> 
> Thank you so much to my betas who I will name after the fics are revealed!!! They are amazing.  
> Any mistakes you see are my own. 
> 
> Title and Lyrics: Room @ the End of the World by Matt Nathanson

_I was buried like treasure_  
_But no one ever came to mark the spot_  
_So I got good at pleasure_  
_And started tying tighter knots_

 

**Part One**

Snow fell in clumps off of the trees at the slightest stirring of the wind as Louis wrapped the cashmere scarf that his mum had given him for Christmas tighter around his neck. He was entirely too cold to be functional.

He brought the binoculars up to his eyes again as he squinted against the bright sun reflecting off the untainted snow on the side of the mountain. Through the trees, about a hundred yards away, he could just barely make out a covered roof. It was definitely remote; he would give them that.

Shivering, he let the binoculars fall back down to his chest as he swung the cabin door open against the harsh wind coming around the mountainside.

“You’re letting all the cold air in!” Niall yelled from his spot in a plush armchair next to the fire. Louis closed the door and glared at him for a moment before giving up and peeling off his layers one by one.

A figure stepped out of the hallway leading to the single bedroom. “Niall, are you sure the property manager isn’t anywhere near the house?” Maren’s tone was curious as she peered out the window. Louis knew she couldn’t actually see the house in question, but her message was clear.

Niall pounded on his keyboard as he checked his notes. “Positive. He comes up once every three days or so when it isn’t occupied. Which is all the time. We should be in the clear.”

“ _Should_ be?” Maren asked with a slightly accusing edge to her tone.

“Relax,” Niall replied, lifting his hands up off his keyboard for once in his life to placate her.

There was a grunt from the corner as Bressie finished his last few sit-ups. “Yeah, Mare, Niall knows what he’s doing.” Louis rolled his eyes as the very large Irishman stood up to his very impressive full height. At six-and-a-half feet tall, Bressie was almost a full foot taller than Louis. Almost. Louis was definitely five-foot-nine. It was what he always had Niall print on his fake ID at least.

“What did I say about calling me that?” Maren bit out from her place by the window, her short brunette bob swinging around her ears with how forcefully she turned her head to scold Bressie.

“Sorry, _Maren_ ,” Bressie retorted. Louis rolled his eyes again. There had been friendly contention between them from the very beginning of this job. This was what Louis got for scraping a crew together at the last second. In his defense, he had only gotten the job a few weeks ago.

 _Gotten the job_ , he scoffed. Had been coerced into the job was probably a better way of putting it. Louis cursed Anton for the tenth time that day, and it was only noon. He chose to remain silent as the team continued to bicker around him.

All Louis had to do was get through this job.

“Go time is anytime, Lou,” Niall said, cutting through the white noise.

“This is ridiculous,” Maren cut in, abruptly cutting off her argument with Bressie. “You’re going in blind. I can get us in there, just let me at the property manager.”

Louis watched her, waiting for her to run out of steam. “There’s no need,” he said flatly. “I’ve done this a million times before. There hasn’t been anyone occupying the property for months now.”

Bressie looked Louis up and down, “You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

“You have no idea what they have guarding it. You don’t know if it’s in a safe, on the wall, or under protective glass, it could be anything.” Maren was pacing back and forth now, talking with her hands. Her smaller stature forced her to take more steps to make it all the way across the length of the main room in the cabin. It was adorable, especially when she was trying to be fierce. Louis would never say that, though. He actually valued his life.

“It’ll be fine. Like I said, there has been no one near the property for months aside from the manager. If I hit a problem I can’t untangle, I’ll abort. Try again when we’ve figured it out.” Louis shrugged and gave Maren a pointed look.

She studied him for another moment before letting out a huff and walking back towards Niall. Louis knew she was used to stealing the show on Niall’s jobs lately. He was ruffling her feathers just by existing right now, and while he didn’t want to give in to her dramatics, he also didn’t want to make any unnecessary waves. He was there to do the job and get out. For good.

Louis crossed the kitchen to where his go bag was sitting on the cheap wooden table. He unzipped it and made sure all of his gear was there; rope, harness, grappling hook, snowshoes. Everything he could possibly need. He squinted out the window eyeing the direction of the roof he couldn’t see but knew was nestled in the trees.

The cabin belonged to Princess Ciara of York, sister to the Queen, and her family. Even though it was on an incredibly remote peak in the Swiss Alps, the diplomatic world considered the cabin to be property of Jolly Old England. It wasn’t exactly a typical three room cabin either.

Niall in his infinite technological ability had found blueprints to the royal ski haven. The house had a large great room and grand kitchen with at least eight bedrooms, maybe more, and five bathrooms. There was a library that was mostly for show, a rec room, a jacuzzi. Anything one could want in a winter hideaway. None of the royal family ever seemed to actually use it.

Because the royal family was up to their arse in priceless art and artifacts, they had used some to decorate their mansion, even though no one ever saw it. Specifically, they had one painting by a more obscure artist that wasn’t worth a huge amount of money. Anton needed the painting for something, though. Louis had chosen not to ask, but knowing Anton it was most likely a fragment of a pigment he would need to forge something else.

Anton had called Louis a few weeks before, promising him as much money as possible to try and lure him out of retirement. Louis tried to refuse. He did. But the money was good, and if he could do this one last job, his family would be set financially for a long time.

It was a bit of a Catch-22 if Louis was being honest. He had retired because he had come too close to getting caught on a job. If he had been sent to prison, he wouldn’t be able to provide for his family. But now the promise of building his family’s nest egg was exactly what lured him back.

His mum knew too, which was probably the worst part about the whole thing. All Louis wanted to do was provide for his six younger siblings. She couldn’t fault him for that, as much as she tried to guilt him for taking risks. He knew it came from a place of concern.

Louis threw the straps of the rucksack over his shoulders. “Ni, are the cameras turned off?”

“Should be good to go,” Niall replied, handing Louis the tiny in-ear comm. Louis hated wearing them, but on a job with so many unknowns, it was imperative that Louis be able to talk to Niall back in the cabin.

“Bressie? You’re on lookout.”

Bressie scoffed but stood up to don his own outerwear. “Lookout for what? Deer?” Louis didn’t deign to answer him.

“And what? I’m still just supposed to sit here?” Maren rolled her eyes.

Louis shrugged, “Sorry, love, you can’t con the trees.” He opened the front door of the cabin again, this time fully suited up. He could hear Niall in his ear checking the mic. “Loud and clear, Ni.”

Niall gave him the go ahead, and Louis opened the front door of the small cabin. He hooked his snowshoes onto his lightweight boots and took off at a slow pace down the mountain. It was coming on ten in the morning now. He didn’t want to rush down towards the cabin and disturb all of the wildlife around them.

Louis took his time and reminded himself to breathe consistently. He shot a glance at the mountain peak behind him; they were at a much higher altitude than he was used to, and he would still need to scale the side of the house when he got down there. Oxygen was key.

He could hear Niall jabbering in his ear piece. This was why he hated wearing them. When Louis wasn’t on the job, he could chat with the best of them, but right now he needed to concentrate.

He and Niall had first worked together a few years before on another job for Anton. Anton was a master forger and thief, but he took care of the business and legal front now, so he often needed to surround himself with people that would do the dirty work.

Niall’s specialty was tech. He was a genius with a keyboard. Louis understood about fifty percent of what he said, but that was okay because everyone else only understood about a quarter of it. Louis prided himself on at least recognizing tech things that Niall threw in his path. He didn’t have much patience to go any farther with it than that, but the knowledge he had was more than enough. For both this life and his regular life.

Regular life. Some life it was. He started his breathing exercises to push some of the negativity away.

Louis was a cat burglar; it was his specialty. He had a smaller, bouncy frame. From the time he could walk he felt like he was floating on air like gravity had to work extra hard just to keep his feet pinned to the earth. He was acrobatic, could scale a building, had no fear of heights. Didn’t have many fears at all, actually.

His friend Zayn worked for Anton and had introduced them when they needed another man for their crew back when Louis was only eighteen. It was good while it lasted.

There was a rotating cast of regulars that Anton liked to use and at some point Niall had come into the picture. Louis and Niall had immediately clicked; Louis understood Niall more than anyone else, and Niall was always the most respectful of Louis’ process when he was on a job. When they weren’t on a job, Niall was a great mate for a pint or a kick around. A friend on and off the job.

At some point after Louis had gotten out of the game, Niall seemed to have picked up his own rotation of friends. Bressie - Niall Breslin - was the muscle and Maren was the grifter. When she wasn’t feeling so prickly, she could charm the skin off a snake. Louis had seen it.

Niall and Anton had brought Louis out of retirement because of the remote location and difficult terrain around the royal cabin, they didn’t trust anyone else to handle it, and Louis was regretting every second.

His muscles screamed from the lack of oxygen as he punched his feet in and out of the top layer of snow under his snowshoes.

The more he suffered, the more curious he got about why Anton needed this one particular painting in the first place. Louis knew it was for the age, quality, and color of the pigment, but he didn’t know what Anton was going to have Zayn use it on once he had remixed the paint.

To keep his mind off his aching limbs and overworked lungs, Louis ran through everything he knew about the painting; Paris, from the early 1900s, lots of cerulean in it. The provenance wasn’t anything special. There had to be something specific about it that would allow Anton to pass carbon dating and authentication tests.

Louis kept up his inner speculation until he reached the base of the incline right above the house that looked as though it was cut into the side of the mountain. It really was a beautiful house. Louis shook his head. He couldn’t believe the royal family didn’t use it more.

It would be an easy toss with his grappling hook to latch onto the roof to try and pull himself up if he had judged the distance correctly. Snow was always a problematic visual variable because its stark whiteness sometimes flattened surfaces that had much more depth, or unevenness.

The rope was poised in Louis’ hand for him to get some good momentum going when the ground shook, and he lost his balance entirely. Louis knew how to balance himself, so he managed to correct the wobble in his body quickly. The tremor had been so slight, Louis had to wonder if he was imagining things.

He stopped to evaluate his surroundings. A few birds had flown away, but that could have been the tremor or Louis’ machinations.

Steady once again he started to swing the head of the grappling hook in a small circle before releasing it, tossing it towards the roof. The hook did its job and immediately grabbed onto the edge of one of the chimneys even through the thin layer of snow that hadn’t yet melted from the direct heat of the sun.

Louis double checked the strength of his harness before securing the rope again. He took off his snowshoes and left them on the incline next to him. He would need them to get back up the mountain, so he made sure they were balanced against the trunk of a nearby tree. Slowly, he began sliding down the incline, pulling himself in with the rope, using the momentum to aid his climb up onto the roof. There were no windows on this part of the house, so he didn’t have to worry about swinging into any glass.

His muscles continued to protest and he continued to breathe as evenly as possible until he managed to pull himself up onto the roof. He detached the harness and threw it back towards his other gear as he tried to determine just where over the house he was according to Niall’s blueprints.

Because the house was actually built into the side of the mountain, Louis was about ten feet away from where the great room was. The drop into the great room was way too far, a full two stories, but if he could get beyond that to the front of the house, he should be able to climb down to the skylight above the front foyer.

He needed to use one of the skylights because Niall wasn’t able to completely hack their security system - it required a retina scan - and the front door or any of the main windows could be set off and automatically trigger an alert for the property manager if Louis opened one.

No one ever bothered to alarm skylights, though.

Louis started to take his first of about thirty steps he would need to get across the full length of the house when something began to rumble behind him. High on adrenaline, it took a moment for the sound to register. He turned slowly, still balanced on the roof, until he was looking at the face of the mountain.

Louis had never seen an avalanche in person before. He had seen clips on YouTube or on Planet Earth, but this was different. The snow had the grace of water as it began to crawl down the mountain and pick up speed tumbling straight towards him. David Attenborough was not softly explaining the otherworldly phenomenon happening around Louis while he sat curled up on his sofa.

Louis needed to run.

Thankfully, his instincts had kicked in even if his brain hadn’t and he took careful but quick leaps towards the front skylight.

He could feel the edge of the cloud of snow begin to disturb the air around him. He wouldn’t make it. He had to go for the great room skylight.

The force of the snow hit the back of the house not far from where Louis’ snowshoes had been stashed. It jostled Louis enough that he fell down and began to crawl towards the frame of the window, hanging onto the tiles of the roof with all of his might, shredding his gloves.

His lungs were burning, tears streaming down his face as far as they could go before they began to freeze against his skin. His heart was beating faster than he had ever felt before as the adrenaline pounded through him. He just needed to get his body over the window so that both he and it didn’t get completely buried.

The glass was slick under his hand when he finally reached it, fumbling for the handle to pry it open. Everything his hand hit was icy glass or the wooden frame. That wasn’t what he needed. He had to get to it somehow.

The stampeding snow began to weigh down his feet and legs, but that actually served to stabilize him on the roof, anchoring him in place. He stretched his arm desperately trying to keep his head ducked down so that it would create an air pocket and leave him space to breathe.

Finally, finally his hand hit the metal of the crank to open the skylight, and the world went black.

 

\- - -

 

**One Week Earlier**

Prince Harry shifted in his stiff backed chair. The ballroom of the palace was practically pitch black in an effort to have some “mood lighting,” and the constant buzz of conversation was deafening. There were days that Harry was grateful for the anonymity and distraction. Today was not one of those days.

It was a requirement now that at state dinners he be relegated to a random table that very subtly lacked a place card. As the second in line for the throne, he could be afforded the luxury of privacy and he had taken full advantage from a young age.

Not many people knew what he looked like. When he was growing up, his mother, the Queen, had made the decision to keep both Harry and his older sister hidden from the press because they were minors and she didn’t want paparazzi constantly following them around exploiting them for a tabloid picture. At the age of eighteen he was given a choice; be presented to the public or stay anonymous.

His sister was next in line for the throne, so when she was eighteen she wasn’t offered the same choice. In the two years between her eighteenth birthday and his, Harry had watched her go to battle with the concept of fame and appealing to the public. He wanted none of it, and had chosen the latter.

Sometimes, though, he wished nothing more than to announce that he was the prince if only to get his companion to shut up.

The young woman next to him - the daughter of some Earl or other - was very loudly speculating as to which one of the guests the mysterious prince could be. It was always a bit insulting when people dismissed Harry as a candidate for the very private prince. He understood that as long as The Prince remained a mystery, he could be anything. Most people wanted him to be the storybook definition of a prince: a tall, dashing, hero of a man - a paragon of virtue!

Harry was definitely… not that. He reached a hand up to push his glasses up his nose and smooth over his gelled down hair, just to make sure it was still in place. His hair was curly and unruly on the best of days, so he had kept it combed back and styled his whole life. They were at a state dinner and the dress code was black tie, so he was in his regular formal tuxedo, but every other day he had a tendency to wear more reserved clothing; a crisp button-down, slacks, and the occasional jumper on top.

Harry liked to fade into the background, he did, but sometimes not living up to the “Prince Charming” mythos stung a bit.

The white-gloved waiters approached the table with their soup course that consisted of perfectly crafted bowls presented with an incredible amount of detail. A swirl of sauce and a poached quail egg were laid gently over a velvety green soup. Harry hadn’t read the menu close enough to know what it was supposed to be. The woman next to him immediately grabbed for her phone that had been laying on the tabletop next to her water glass for the whole meal.

“I _must_ put this in my Instagram story,” she proclaimed. Her face might have tilted in Harry’s direction but he couldn’t really tell in the dim lighting. It felt a bit like she was talking to him, but she could have been speaking to the whole table in general. Harry really wasn’t sure, so he remained silent. Usually he didn’t talk to his table-mates much at these events because of his slightly shyer nature, but this time it was because he actively didn’t want to engage the woman in vapid, useless conversation.

Completely unbidden, the woman began to boast about her social media presence. She told him all about how many followers she had, what her rate of engagement was, and how much money she could make on a sponsored post or story. Harry continued to eat his first course in silence.

Publicly, the prince wasn’t on social media. Privately, Harry did follow the few friends that he had, but only people he trusted and that he had known for a very long time. He didn’t post anything identifiable either. He quite liked photography, so most of the time he posted artistic black and white shots he’d taken over the course of his diplomatic travels. It wasn’t hard to track an engagement rate when it was confined to a circle of twenty people.

“Do you know the prince?” Her nasally voice cut through Harry’s consciousness, but it took an extra moment for him to realize that she was addressing him.

“What?” He replied eloquently.

“The prince? Do you know him?” She looked at Harry as if he was dumber than a brick and she couldn’t believe she had to put up with him, as though it wasn’t really the other way around.

Harry wiped his mouth with his napkin to give himself an extra moment to compose himself. “I do, yeah.”

She stared at him expectantly for another few moments and he awkwardly shifted in his chair again, not sure what she wanted from him.

“Well,” she asked with an exaggerated flip of her hands, “which one is he?”

For some reason her desire to know exactly who the prince was hadn’t actually occurred to Harry before this very moment. He should have been better at lying.

Harry blushed and let his fork clatter onto the plate. “I… Erm. I haven’t seen him yet?”

She studied him carefully for a moment before giving a grunt of acknowledgment and going back to discussing her social media with the table at large. All of Harry’s muscles relaxed and he sighed in relief as he picked up his spoon once again.

When they were finished with the first course their plates were whisked away and the fish course was brought out, a beautiful piece of salmon, Harry’s favorite. He made a mental note to swing by the kitchen and thank the chef on his way up to his rooms. It helped that the chef was one of his best friends, a man named Fionn he met at school all those years ago. That probably had something to do with why the menus at the palace were so consistent when Harry was forced to attend these dinners.

As the evening wore on and the woman sitting next to him had multiple servings of the paired wines for each course, she was getting pushier and pushier about the “missing” prince. To not only Harry’s embarrassment, but the rest of the table’s as well, she began to explain in detail just how she would let the prince “take care of her.” Her suggestions grew more explicit as the courses wore on, and Harry was so shaken he could barely swallow his food, much less taste it.

It wasn’t just that she was inadvertently talking about Harry. His embarrassment was deep rooted in his own desires.

Harry had a few relationships in his life a couple in uni, a couple after, but most never lasted more than a handful of months before they mutually parted ways. In part because Harry had never reached the point where he wanted to reveal his actual identity to them. No one had ever pushed him over the edge to where he felt comfortable telling them about his other life. A few others had actually tried to change him a little, tried “improving” the way he dressed, asking him to get contacts or conform to how they wanted him to look. They had taken a bit of a toll on Harry’s confidence. In retrospect, they had probably pushed him back in his shell a bit more than he had been, but that was okay. Harry liked his shell.

His sexual experience was fairly limited. He had been with a few people long enough to sleep with them but none of the sex was really mind blowing. It was all pretty vanilla, and Harry had been discouraged with himself. He didn’t know why it was easier for him to get himself off than it was for him to get off with a partner. He felt nervous and self conscious when he would bottom but he wouldn’t get hard. He liked the feeling of being full, but everything else about it had been underwhelming.

For awhile he went through an identity crisis, thinking that it might have had something to do with his sexuality, but he was definitely attracted to men. That wasn’t the issue.

The answer finally clicked for him when he was reading a romance novel - a gay romance novel -  and was struck by the domination and submission the author had added. He had started reading it thinking the sex would be the same as any romance novel (they were all fairly formulaic) but then it had evolved into something new and different for Harry. The author switched points of view and during the second sex scene went into incredible detail about the character giving into their submissive side and what it meant to them, why they liked it.

Harry’s entire body had gone up in flames and he had been so engrossed in it, he hadn’t heard his assistant Liam barging into his living area one room over. Harry had barely had enough time to sit up and gather the blankets casually in his lap, hiding his massive erection before Liam had come in going over his schedule for the next day. Because he had already turned down the path, something about the idea of Liam catching him getting off, or at least seeing that Harry was hard did something to him. He was by no means attracted to Liam, no. It was purely about getting caught. Harry had done his best to even out his breathing as he listened to Liam go on and on about their itinerary until he had forced him to leave, feigning tiredness.

There was no way this ridiculous woman sitting next to him could know what the idea of a mysterious prince tying her up did to Harry. Except, in Harry’s head he was the one being tied up and the mysterious prince was an entirely separate entity - a nameless, faceless man that loved Harry enough to bind him and use him for his pleasure.

After everything Harry had learned about BDSM lifestyles and relationships, he had come to the conclusion that fundamentally it was trust that got people off, and there was something incredibly romantic about that.

Or maybe, Harry was just that much of a kink-starved hopeless romantic.

The idea that his table-mate wanted Harry to be the one to tie her up and do naughty things with her was laughable, but instead of laughing, Harry just escaped. As soon as he could.

His mother probably had a grand plan of Harry coming over to the head table to meet a few dignitaries, but after the evening he had just endured, he figured she would forgive him just this once.

He smoothed down his hair once more as he headed for the kitchen entrance where all of the waiters were emerging at the very back corner of the ballroom.

“You can’t come back here, sir.” One of the waiters stopped Harry, gesturing with his arm across the door as if to block Harry from entering. The bodyguard who was attempting to be inconspicuous reached Harry’s side and leaned over to tell the man just who he was speaking to before Harry stepped towards the door. There were times that being the prince had its perks.

Harry found Fionn on the line right in the heart of the chaos. “Thanks for the salmon, mate! It was beautiful.” Harry called out as he passed by; he wouldn’t stay too long, he didn’t want to interrupt service at all. Fionn’s normally composed expression broke into a smile when he saw Harry, and he threw him an imperceptible wink before going back to expediting courses. Harry would talk to him tomorrow before dinner.

He kept pushing through the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, careful to dodge the servers on their way out with pristine dessert plates. If he made it up to his room quickly enough, there was a chance Liam wouldn’t be able to find Harry before he fell asleep. There was a better chance of it tonight because the staff that were always lurking around every corridor were hopefully still distracted by the dinner.

Harry had learned when he was young how to dodge people that were looking for him. It came with the princely territory - everyone always wanted a piece of him. If he didn’t want to lose his sanity, he had to find time for himself. Like next week.

Recently, Harry had finished up and submitted his dissertation for his doctorate in International Relations. The degree was a culmination of three years of studying and researching and writing, and to say Harry was relieved that it was almost over was a gross understatement. All he had left to do was defend it before he was finally free.

His appointment to defend his work before the committee was in a few days, and he was somewhat nervous about having to speak in front of an audience, but he was confident in his topic. His specialty was international conflict, for obvious reasons.

But after he was done, he was going away. Away from his responsibilities as a prince, away from the palace, away from school, away from everything. His mum was offering him a vacation and respite as a gift of congratulations for finishing his degree, and it just proved how well she knew him.

His aunt and uncle had a cabin up in the middle of nowhere in the Swiss Alps. Because it belonged to the royal family, it was completely secure so he wouldn’t need to bring anyone with him. It could just be Harry, alone in the peaceful snow covered mountains. No one knew he was going up there aside from his family and Liam, his assistant.

Liam was looking forward to the time away as well; he had just begun dating a man named Anton who worked… somewhere else in the palace - Harry couldn’t remember. This was the first time they would be able to have some time to themselves as well.

When Harry got back to his room he was still in his formal tuxedo, but he couldn’t resist sitting at his desk and opening up his laptop. He absolutely had to take care of business first, so he opened up his personal email account and wrote out his itinerary for the next day. Some might think it was a silly practice.  Liam certainly did, because his argument was that he was there to keep track of Harry’s schedule for him, but it helped Harry stay grounded a bit. If he wrote it down, he was more likely to remember it.

After he finished, he switched email accounts and opened up the tracking on a certain package that was due to arrive the next day. It was from a small independent company that did most of their marketing on Instagram. They made the most beautiful handcrafted leather bondage gear.

Harry had found them by accident, again, but he hadn’t been able to get their beautiful photographs out of his head. The majority of their pieces were made for play between partners, but there was a tag on one of the pictures for “self-bondage” that had sent Harry into yet another tailspin.

Since his self-discovery, he hadn’t been able to explore any of his own submissive tendencies at all. It wasn’t as though the prince - incognito as he was - could go around finding casual doms.  But, the idea of bondage and submission had taken hold of him, so he began to explore the idea of self-bondage. It didn’t have the same bite of arousal that the idea of submission did, but Harry wanted to start somewhere. Maybe then by the time he was able to find an actual partner who might be interested in experimenting with him, he would have at least a little bit of experience.

There were all kinds of devices and techniques Harry had been looking into over the last few weeks, and he had done all the research and ordered a few of them to be delivered discretely to the palace before he left. The waist restraint was the last to arrive because it was custom made to his own measurements and handmade.

Just the thought of everything he was going to bring with him stored neatly in a small box in the back of his closet had him stiffening in his trousers. He realized then that he was still wearing his tuxedo. He got up from his desk chair, stripped, and placed his tuxedo in the basket for his maid to come collect the next day.

His hair was still crunchy with gel so he hopped in the shower, both to rinse it out and to wash away the memories of the dinner this evening.

The arousal that had built while he was imagining what his vacation would bring him had receded a bit, but as the warm spray pounded against his back, he held his wrists up next to his waist to simulate how the harness would hold them. There was a belt that would sit at his natural waist with two Houdini cuffs attached, all leather. The cuffs were specially designed to stand up against natural pressure and resistance but still be comfortable and flexible. He had special self release ice locks to put on them as well. He kind of wished he could be completely restrained, but he knew that wasn’t safe especially when he would be up in the mountains by himself.

Harry was also fascinated by shibari and had bought a rope to bring with him. He wasn’t sure how he was going to use it yet, but the possibilities were endless.

After he rinsed the shampoo and remnants of the gel out of his hair, he reached one of his hands down to grip the base of his cock, the way he wouldn’t be able to when he was restrained. He thought about being tied up, being merciless to someone else’s pleasure. That’s what he wanted to try, really, but he would take what he could get.

He let himself fall down the rabbit hole of his fantasies, using one hand to pull at his cock and one to thumb at his nipple before he was crying out and coming against the glass shower door. His ears were still ringing from his orgasm as he began to towel dry his hair, not bothering to cover up his body. Dragging on a pair of clean pants, he burrowed himself in his bed, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for the rest of the week to fast forward.

 

**One Week Later**

Harry hopped out of the car onto the tarmac where the family’s plane was gassed up and ready to go. Again, he was reminded of the privileged life he led. He liked to think that everything he did with his charity work and his studies was doing as much as he could to give something back to the world that had given him so much.

The chauffeur passed his bags to the baggage handler who loaded them into the cargo hold. His driver waved Harry goodbye, and Harry loved Tom, he did, but it felt like a piece of weight on his shoulders was breaking off and floating away. The pilot and stewardesses were still there, and then there would be a driver when he touched down, but he was so close to freedom he could taste it.

Harry greeted the pilot and the stewardess before taking his seat in the plush leather chair. He was glad it was only a short flight and he could fly privately without being too much of a bother.

The stewardess was a woman he had met before, so he wasn’t worried about her being too chatty or invasive like some could be. It was their job to keep their client happy, he knew, but this holiday was about being left alone.

Harry bent over to tuck his small bag next to his feet. When he sat up again, he pushed his thick framed glasses back up his nose as the stewardess came over with a glass of water and the menu for the flight. He nodded politely before turning back to look out the window and watch the plane taxi and take off.

Having worked for the royal family for a while, the stewardess understood the signal and took the chance to disappear. Harry would ring her if he needed anything, maybe a spot of lunch later.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. He listened to music, slept a bit, and watched the beautiful views outside the window of the plane. They landed eventually at the small airport in Interlaken that used to be a military base in World War II. It was closed to commercial flights now, but Liam and made special arrangements for Harry to land there as he was flying privately. The privacy was beneficial as he was greeted by a special customs agent who checked his passport in the few steps between the stairs of the plane and the car and driver that were waiting for him.

Documents all in order, Harry was once again safely ensconced in the solitude of the car. It struck him, not for the first time, how much of his life he really spent alone, and it wasn’t much. Even when there was a semblance of isolation there was always _someone_ around. In the car, for example, he also had a driver. At home in the palace, he could be alone in his room, but he knew there was always a member of staff nearby, or Liam. Liam always seemed to pop up in the most inconvenient places.

Having his own set of rooms in the palace wasn’t like having a shitty one bedroom flat that he could lock from the inside with no secret door for the maid to sneak in and change his bed linens.

He sighed and sat back in his seat, smoothing his hands down the front of his slacks to try and press the creases out. At least he had worn his warmest jumper. There wasn’t any snow at the airport at the moment, but he could see the mountains from the runway and they were a stark white against the beautiful bright blue sky.

The car picked up speed as they exited the airport grounds and began the long trek up through the Alps.

Harry was beginning to get a bit hungry, having forgone food on the two hour flight, but he knew the property manager had fully stocked the kitchen before he left according to the list Harry had given Liam. One of the stipulations of this trip was that the property manager would not come by to check on the house while Harry was staying there. Harry knew the man, had met him on previous holidays when he was younger. Liam had passed the message along to Harry that the man was going to take the opportunity to visit his family that lived down the mountain while Harry was there. Apparently they had a new grandbaby that he wanted to spend as much time with as possible.

Thoughts of the baby made Harry smile; he loved kids, couldn’t wait until Gemma started having some. She had a steady boyfriend that the tabloids didn’t know about yet, so he was hoping at some point they would settle down and start giving him nieces and nephews.

He would love to have children of his own, too. Harry sighed again, catching his own reflection in the window. It wasn’t that he thought himself unattractive. He knew that he dressed a bit differently, more buttoned up than the average twenty-six year old, but that was how he had been raised. As a young prince, even outside the public eye, he was expected to have every button, every zipper in place before he stepped out of his room. He liked how it made him feel, like he had some form of control over himself.

He splayed his hands across the tops of his thighs again before taking a few deep breaths to try and relax. He twisted in his plush leather seat in the car until he was curled up on it, leaning his head against the backrest. There was a long drive ahead of him and he was much less likely to get carsick from the twisty mountain roads if he dozed off for awhile.

 

When Harry came to, everything inside the car was dark and they had stopped moving.

“ _Monsieur_?” Jean the driver had lowered the partition and was attempting to wake Harry up politely.

Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, “Sorry, Jean. _Merci_.” He reached his hands up to adjust his glasses and make sure his hair was still under control. When he had gotten his bearings back, Harry reached for the handle of the door, opening it to the dim light of the garage under the house.

Jean came around the boot and grabbed Harry’s bag. Harry knew his intention was to carry it upstairs and drop it off where Harry wanted him to, that was his job, but Harry was feeling oddly territorial over the interior of the house. Many people had come and gone through these walls before, but this time felt different. It was his freedom through isolation, and somehow having anyone else there felt sacrosanct.

“ _C'est bon, Jean. Je peux le faire,_ ” Harry said with his hand out to take the bag.

Jean looked concerned, his usually impassive face deepening into a frown. “ _Mais, monsieur_ …”

“ _Oui_ ,” Harry said, giving him the most reassuring smile he could muster. Jean studied him for another moment before handing over the bag and nodding. Harry thanked him and moved out of the way of the car.

Jean opened the driver’s side door. “ _Au revoir,_ ” he said to Harry, nodding respectfully again before climbing into the car and pressing the button to open the garage door.

When the automatic door lifted, Harry could see that it was just about dusk outside. He wrapped his coat more tightly around himself against the chill as he waited until Jean rounded the first corner of the drive and the door began to close again automatically.

Harry didn’t want to miss the rest of the sunset from the windows at the front of the house.

 _House_ , he thought, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t a house as much as it was ten bedrooms, various living spaces, a ginormous kitchen, and everything a royal family could possibly want or need. Certainly much more than Harry would want or need. There was an elevator for heaven’s sake.

He stepped into the small European-style elevator that was specifically made to look as though it was built in the thirties, and pressed the button for the main floor.

When he emerged in a small nook off the kitchen, he dragged his bag behind him as he passed through said kitchen and emerged into the great room. The whole main level was designed so that the kitchen was at the back of the house - with the mountain behind it - which then opened up to the great room with its two stories of floor to ceiling windows. From the great room he could go left to the front entrance, continue on into the large master bedroom, or head upstairs to the other bedrooms.

Before anything else, though, the view was calling his name. He dropped his big bag and the leather duffle he carried with him on the plane at the base of the stairs then peeled off his coat as he made his way to the windows.

The tops of the trees on the mountainside underneath them came just to the bottom of the windows of the great room. When he was a boy they didn’t quite reach the house, but now he could see the tallest ones before he even made it all the way to the window. There were trees on either side as well, giving the illusion of being cocooned by the natural forest that surrounded the house.

Harry took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, feeling each one of his ribs expand and contract.

He was free.

 _And a bit hungry_ , he thought as his stomach grumbled in the expanse of the room. He wanted to put his bags in his room first before he settled in for some dinner, so he hefted them up once again and made his way to the bedroom. Normally this room was reserved for his aunt and uncle, or his mum, so he was glad he would finally get the chance to use it.

Behind the main door, there was a small hallway and vestibule with the doors to both the bedroom itself and the luxurious master bath. Harry opened the door to the bedroom and took in the clean, peaceful space.

Because it was perpendicular to the great room, the master bedroom had large windows looking over the valley as well, though they were only a story high instead of two. In the center of the room there was a large, plush king size bed, and Harry couldn’t fight the urge to run and jump onto it, splaying out into a starfish in the middle of the comforter. There wasn’t anyone here to stop him.

He grinned at the ceiling for a moment before he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

 **Mum** : _Are you alright, H?_

Harry typed out his response and hit send, informing her that he was fine and would be turning off his phone for the rest of his holiday. He waited a few more minutes in case she replied, sinking further into the downy softness before finally shutting the phone off completely. He might turn it on again, but he had his computer, and didn’t much care for answering any messages he might receive. As it was he had turned off notifications for his email before he had even gotten on the plane.

 _Right, time for dinner_.

He toed off his boots and left them in the large walk in closet. He would unpack his clothes later, but for now, he wanted to get cooking.

He wove his way around the furniture in the great room before coming to a stop in front of the large pantry. The property manager really had gotten everything, though Harry suspected most of the large stores of dry goods, grains, and pasta were just always there. They did have quite a variety.

Next he moved to fridge, where there was a veritable farmer’s market of colorful produce and a few different cuts of meat. There was even more meat and a handful of pints of ice cream in the freezer. Perfect.

Harry had already been excited, but he could feel his mood lifting by the minute.

Having gotten the lay of the land, he padded over to his carry on bag and lifted out his computer and small portable speakers. He set everything up on the far corner of the large island away from where he would be prepping and started digging through his vast library of music.

Laughing at his own joke, he put on “Lonely Boy” by The Black Keys and set the album - _El Camino_ , one of his all time favorites - to shuffle.

The house felt cozy and warm despite its grandiosity, so Harry took his sweater off and draped it on the back of a chair. He went searching again through the pantry until he found a plain canvas apron folded in the back corner. He shook it out and tied it around his front at the neck and waist. There was a washing machine in the house, but not exactly a dry cleaners he could nip out to that would press and starch his shirt correctly if he got anything on it. It was a short sleeved dress shirt, which he preferred to wear under his cardigan, so at least he didn’t have to roll his sleeves up. He did, however, loosen his tie and pull it through his collar, leaving it with the cardigan.

Now he was ready to get to work. The Black Keys were in full swing as Harry grabbed everything he would need. He had all the time in the world, so he wanted to start with his favorite meal that he didn't make that often.

Handfuls of pappardelle pasta, some tomato paste, salt, pepper; he dropped off his bounty at the prep station. Grabbing all the veggies and the large portioned pieces of wild boar out of the fridge, Harry was ready to go. He began to chop all of the veggies, swinging his hips a little back and forth as his socks slid on the hardwood floor.

This holiday was exactly what he needed.

 

After Harry finished eating his dinner, figuring out how to work the giant television, and watching a few episodes of _Animal Airport_ , he decided to turn in for the night. It was a bit early, but the anticipation was killing him. He did the rest of his dishes from dinner and turned all the lights off, retreating to the master bedroom.

He very carefully and methodically unpacked his clothing and hung each item, all of his precisely pressed pants and slacks, in the closet. Most people, he was sure, would relax on holiday, but he wanted to be comfortable and these clothes felt comfortable to Harry.

When he had siphoned off the layers of clothing, he even more delicately took out what was underneath and placed everything in the top drawer of the dresser. In the next drawer he placed all of his own undergarments, running his fingers over each one the way he liked to at home. Most people also probably didn’t do that, but he couldn’t help it.

He hurriedly stripped off his shirt and trousers, leaving him in only his socks and pants. As he made his way to the laundry basket he caught his reflection in the large mirror. Not wanting to get distracted from his mission, he deposited the lumps of clothing where they needed to go before coming back to stand in front of the mirror once again.

This was the only concession he had made to the corners of his soul that never got to see the light. He brought his hand up to trace delicately along the lacy hem. From the anticipation, and the completely unobstructed view of his usually very hidden lingerie, his cock was beginning to shift under the thin fabric.

Harry leaned down to pull first one sock off and then the other - they were ruining the line of his legs. When he stood up he pushed his glasses back from where they had started sliding down his nose. The picture he made with his thick frames didn’t exactly match the gossamer lace either, but with his hair still gelled back and under control after so many hours of traveling, he quite liked how he looked. It wasn’t for everyone, but it felt right to Harry.

He started about a year ago by only wearing the lingerie under his formal suits at events. It seemed backwards to start with something so public, but it was his own minor rebellion against having to attend. Also, in his day to day wardrobe he wasn’t likely to wear as much black, but the trousers of his tuxedo were pitch black and would hide any kind of odd line or lace texture peeking through the fabric. Then, he had a difficult time giving them up. Once he was hooked on the feeling of the lace against his skin, there was no going back.

It was a nightmare to wash them of course, because he couldn’t have anyone finding out about them, so he had to do his washing all by hand at once in his sink when there was no chance of the maids coming in and finding them drying on the makeshift line in his room, but it was worth it.

His favorite, that he had tucked away in the drawer while unpacking, were a strappy black pair that contrasted against his paler skin.

For now, he felt grimy enough from his hours of traveling and getting settled that he finally pulled off his current pair and disposed of them in the hamper as well and headed for the master bath.

Instead of being en suite, the bathroom had a separate door, and as Harry entered it for the first time it took his breath away. There was a fully glass shower to the right, and almost the entire vaulted portion of the ceiling was one large skylight. Directly underneath that was a large vintage looking clawfoot tub with a toilet and bidet on one side and the sinks on the other.

Harry might very well end up taking a bath every day from here on out. He felt tired enough that it would have to wait for another day. He fiddled with the knobs of the shower and hopped in, pulling the door closed behind him as he thrust his head under the spray to begin melting away some of the product keeping his unruly curls at bay.

When he was done rinsing off, he wrapped himself in one of the fluffy white towels. The stiffening in his cock hadn’t gone down, per se, but he was purposefully ignoring it. He had all of the time in the world now, there was no reason for him to rush and get off straight away.

Climbing into the plush bed, thinking about the different things he had brought with him to experiment with, Harry did his best to find a comfortable position that kept his still half hard cock from rubbing up against anything like the comforter or the silky sheets covering the mattress.

If he had been any less exhausted from traveling or peaceful in his solitude, he probably wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep, but as it was he drifted off quickly.

 

Harry kicked his feet up on the couch and stared out over the small valley below the house as he crunched on his granola. The acai bowl he had made the morning was so colorful and pretty with all this fresh fruit. It wasn’t like they didn’t have fresh fruit at the palace, it was just that most of the time there were so many people standing between Harry and his ability to make food for himself.

They didn’t want to prevent him from making his own food, it was just their job to provide him food. Even though he really enjoyed making his own. 

When he had cleaned up from breakfast it was finally time to let himself indulge. He clapped his hands together in front of his body and scurried off to the master bedroom. The time for self control was over. _Or was it?_ Harry thought to himself, cackling out loud. Honestly, he was glad he found his own self-bondage jokes funny.

Bondage. It had taken him awhile to get used to that word, _bondage_.

Harry opened the top drawer of the dresser and surveyed the toys he brought with him. A vibrator, a vibrating plug with a remote, a length of jute rope, a length of softer cotton rope, his gorgeous waist harness, and of course, his ice locks.

He eyed the ice locks warily. They were small metal cylinders that filled with water and when frozen they locked into place and could be attached to the cuffs of the waist harness. Once he attached them, his wrists would be trapped to his waist for however long it took for the ice to melt. He shifted in place and rotated his wrists to simulate the position, thinking about what that might eventually feel like.

Heat flowed in waves through his body before settling in his cheeks.

Maybe he would prepare the ice locks now. That way, if and when he worked himself up to using them - _being completely helpless for four hours on end,_ he thought with a nervous swallow - they would be ready and he wouldn’t have to wait for them to freeze.

Now that he had a mission, he grabbed the cool metal cylinders in his hand and ran to the kitchen. He filled each one up carefully pushing the excess water out with each cylinder until nothing came out. When they were ready he popped them in the pull out freezer below the fridge before closing the drawer again with a forceful shove.

He had done it. _Wow_ , he thought, leaning back against the cool stainless steel of the fridge door. He had successfully interacted with a bondage toy.

Filled with a new sense of vigor, he took a few steadying breaths, and went to work on the rest of his set up.

He had found the most comfortable looking chair in the house that he could still use the legs of, got water, snacks, and the television remote and put them next to the chair on a small side table.

Running back to the master bedroom he grabbed his plug, the lube, his waist harness, and the softer cotton rope to start. He stopped in the bathroom for more towels, then brought his whole bounty back to the chair.

Harry laid out the towels across the seat to keep it clean, then kneed up onto the seat facing the back of it. The lube was a little chilly when he squirted some out on to his fingers, so he rubbed it between them a bit to try and warm it up. When it felt a little closer to body temperature, he reached behind himself and began opening himself up.

This was easy, something Harry had done many times before. When he was at home he much preferred using the plug or a vibrator like he had brought with him. It was easy to hide one of those. It wasn’t easy to quickly untie himself when Liam came knocking at his door to discuss his schedule for the fifteenth time.

Harry leaned over the back of the chair as he added a second finger. He wasn’t sure if it was the anticipation of what he was about to do, or the actual physical feeling, but every single one of his nerve endings was on high alert. He was responding more to his own touch than he ever had before.

Riding the high he reached across the grab the plug, wasting no time in lubing that up as well before pushing it in until the base was snug against his rim.

Panting heavily, Harry leaned his head down against the top of the back of the chair to regain his bearings. His cock was rock hard by now, beginning to drip on the towel below him. Where he would be sitting for a while. Harry reached his right hand down to gather the precome beading at his tip to drag it down his shaft so that it wouldn’t drop as much before leaning back and putting his weight back down on his feet to stand upright. He let the plug settle inside him carefully, making sure it was in correctly before he began to walk around, getting used to the feeling again.

With his anticipation for this holiday building, on top of his busy schedule, he hadn’t been able to use his toys as much, only having time for a quick wank here and there.

To try and acclimate his body to having the plug in, he began to move around, walking over to where his computer was still on the island from the night before. His breath hitched every time he took a step and the plug put pressure on the area just below his prostate. Enough to tease, but not enough sensation to be fulfilling in any way.

He picked the computer up and moved it closer to the chair, starting the playlist he had curated for the holiday. A mix of songs that were both atmospheric and interesting for him to listen to while he was tied up.

When his body felt ready, he gingerly sat back on the chair, his hard cock still bobbing in front of him. He took some time to adjust before picking up the waist harness.

This time, he would only be restraining half his body. So, one arm would be cuffed to the harness, and he would put one leg in a classic leg tie. He wanted to start small for his first time on his own.

He could do this.

The buttery leather felt surprisingly soft against his skin as he buckled it around the bare skin of his waist instead over an undershirt like he had the day before he left. Perfect fit.

He detached one of the cuffs and strapped it around his left wrist. He was doing his best to focus on his movements, on the tasks he had set for himself, because he didn’t want to get distracted. But he couldn’t help that his heart rate was picking up, and he was barely in his hold, but it already felt like his cock was leaking and he could come at the slightest provocation.

Harry used his left hand to attach the right cuff around his right wrist. Both had their clasps dangling from simple silver rings. He had played around with the cuffs and loosened them enough that it was easy for him to contort his hand and get himself hooked up. If… when… he attached the ice locks, they would add to the length of the clasp creating extra distance between his wrists and the cuffs.

While his arms were still free Harry picked up his length of soft cotton rope and folded his leg up towards his body. Then, he began to tie. He started with a single column tie around his ankle before using the extra length of rope to pull his heel closer to the back of his thigh. If he wasn’t so engrossed in the mindset of wanting to practice everything he had learned during his research, he might have made a flamingo joke to himself. As it was he was having a hard time getting his breathing under control.

He could do this.

Harry brought the rope around his leg three times allowing himself to draw it tighter and tighter against his thigh. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Everything he read said he didn’t want to get too far up towards his knee otherwise the rope - especially the softer kind of rope that he had with less tooth to it - would slip right off his knee.

Now, the complicated part. He was so unbelievably hard that he had to maneuver around his cock using his forearm to keep it out of the way a bit while he finished off the tie on his inner thigh.

Wrapping the rope around itself - the same way he had practiced at home with twine - to form a hitch, he tied off the first rope. On the second wrap, the ropes were closer together with more tension, so his hands slipped the first time and jerked his wrist, brushing the cool metal clasp still hanging off his cuff across the head of his cock. Harry froze, hissing through gritted teeth as he tried to let his arousal settle back into the steady thrum under his skin that it had been.

His fingers felt thick and clumsy as he tried again with more success. It wasn’t the most beautiful hitch to ever exist, but it would work. He moved onto the next one before dragging the rope through the gap in the middle and repeating the same pattern on the outside of his leg before cinching it and tying it off.

His abdomen had been tight through his effort to maneuver around himself but now that he had finished he leaned back and let go of the extra tension in his muscles causing the plug to shift inside him again and put just that much more pressure on his prostate.

Harry’s chest was heaving as his breath came heavier and his blood pumped through everyone of his extremities. He reached across his body with his right hand and clasped his left wrist to his waist before letting his right hand fall down next to him on the seat of the chair as he stared at his body.

The muscles in his left thigh bulged where they were pressed so tightly against his left calf. The skin of his knee was stretched tightly, and if he leaned to the right a bit he could see his foot on the edge of the cushion.

Testing, because he could, he jerked his left arm harshly away from his body. The clasp did what it was supposed to and the movement caused an incredible jolt in the harness making it dig into the natural dip of his waist on the opposite side.

 _Holy shit_. He was tied up.

Unconsciously, he lifted his right hand up and wrapped it around his cock fully for the first time, throwing his head back against the back of the chair again and moaning over the music, up towards the two story high ceiling.

His body felt like it was on fire as he gathered more of his precome and spread it down his shaft, riding out each wave of arousal as it hit him.

Harry’s eyes drifted closed as he continued stroking himself with slow steady motions. He had been so fixated on making sure that everything was set up correctly, he hadn’t thought about how it would truly _feel_ to be incapacitated in some way.

His tongue darted out and licked across his dry, chapped lips before he bit down on the bottom one. Finally, he let everything else fall away, concentrating on the rhythm of his heartbeat as it pounded in his eardrums adding an extra beat to his background music.

The poppy synth and soft vocals of the song “Boys” by Charli XCX came on his playlist and Harry rolled his neck until he was facing his computer, watching as pictures he had taken of his travels faded in and out on the screen.

All of the tension flowed out of his body with each passing moment. This. This had been the feeling he was looking for, that he had read about. The sensation of being tied up and having the world go quiet.

Harry turned his head the other way to stare out the windows of the great room, letting the view aid in his serenity.

It could have been five minutes later, it could have been fifty minutes later - it genuinely didn’t matter, which was possibly the most blissful feeling Harry had ever experienced - but eventually his hips began to squirm in response to the way the plug was resting inside him.

Harry started to pump his erection again with a little more conviction, pulling himself off with a purpose now. He could hear his own moans echoing back at him in the large room.

The tension in the rope around his leg, the bite of the leather against his waist, the plug inside of him. There were so many sensations he couldn’t concentrate on just one long enough to focus on the specific pleasure as it continued to build within him.

Finally, he went to reach up with his left hand and play with his nipple, the way he always did when he got himself off, only for his arm to be stopped short, making him catch his breath with the force of the pull against his waist.

 _Fuck_. He was in a leather harness. That was what did it after everything. The reminder that his movement was limited, and if there had been someone there with him, if he had a partner, he would be - could be - almost completely at their mercy.

His orgasm tore through him as his spilled up across his bare chest. His high whimpers continued as he stroked his cock until he was too sensitive. His bound leg had contracted in towards his body and was on the verge of cramping so he relaxed the muscles letting his foot rest back down on the towel covering the seat cushion as he rode out the aftershocks.

 

Harry had no idea how long he ended up staying on the chair, or how long the entire process took from the time he started to the time it took him to unclasp his left hand, completely unwind the rope, and take the plug out.

Hours later, the whole thing was cleaned up. He wasn’t sure if he could call it a scene if he was by himself, he might not have gotten that far in his research. Either way, he was curled up on the couch watching episodes of _Shetland_. Nice, simple murder mysteries that he didn’t have to think about too much.

When he had planned out what he would bring with him, he didn’t take into account how sensitive his skin would feel to the touch after he had… finished. He was glad he brought at least one silk pajama set. He didn’t normally like them, preferred to sleep in the nude, but the silk was soft and cool against his skin.

Even as he watched the show he wasn’t fully concentrating. Everything was still a bit soft around the edges, fuzzy; he was still riding the high from his orgasm.

The episode came to a close, fading to dark, and dusk was beginning to set in outside as well, just as beautiful as the night before. Harry supposed it was time for him to cook dinner again, but for the life of him he had no idea what he wanted to make. He wasn’t quite ready to leave his cocoon of blankets so he leaned back and thought about what had happened earlier in the day.

Clearly, he had enjoyed it. He had always known he would enjoy it, but now there was a stronger bite to the desire. He _knew_ how good it felt to tie himself up.

What he didn’t know was what he was going to be able to do about it after this week. Or what it would feel like for someone to do that for him, to trust someone enough to feel helpless with them. A sense of melancholy began to creep into Harry’s conscience. He was stuck there. Felt trapped.

But he couldn’t let that color his one week of freedom now that he had gotten a taste of it.

Harry heaved himself up off the couch to go check the fridge. Maybe something would inspire him.

 

The next morning, Harry let himself have a bit of a lie in before he went to make breakfast. It was more of a read-in when he pulled up his favorite source for help in learning self-bondage. They had put up a new blog post about nipple clamps. Harry had brought a pair with him and immediately began to think about using them today.

When he thought about his plan for that morning, he was a bit worried he would be adding too much too fast. There was a different kind of leg tie he wanted to try as well as adding the nipple clamps, but the most daunting was the ice locks. They would keep him completely incapacitated for about four hours.

Harry was ready.

He quickly hopped in the shower to rinse off, deciding then that he would take his first bath tonight as well. If his cool down period was anything like yesterday, the warm water would feel soothing in the same way the silk pajamas had.

From there he set everything up exactly the same way it had been the day before. He lay the towels, water, snacks, and an extra key for the ice locks down on the table next to the chair. This time he brought the remote control for the plug as well. Yesterday he had just wanted the plug, but today he was going all out.

Repeating the same steps from yesterday, he got the plug inside himself first, followed by the cuffs on his wrist, then the harness around his waist, keeping his hands untethered for now.

This time, instead of the single leg tie, he wanted to try tying his thighs together in a harness shape with the rope. He followed the steps in his head like he had with the single leg tie. This one was a little less complicated because he didn’t have to worry about it slipping off. He just had to tie the rope around one thigh then alternate in a zipper motion between his two thighs. Then he pulled the rope back up towards his already aching cock before securing it again on the way back down towards his knees. The whole thing kind of resembled a Jacob’s Ladder, the string toy he and Gemma used to play with when they were children.

More importantly, his thighs were completely secured together in front of him. Harry pushed his cock down experimentally but let go when he felt the soft texture of the cotton rope brush against the underside of it.

 _Wow_. Harry thought. His ties looked much better today after he already done them once. He would definitely improve with more practice.

Next, he picked up the remote for the plug and put it on the lowest setting - barely a hum - but he would be in this position for quite awhile. The remote though, he left within full reach of his right hand just in case the vibration became uncomfortable. He would still be able to reach out and use it. Harry’s body began to adjust to the vibration inside of him but the plug was still not quite high enough to reach his prostate, keeping him from the heightened pleasure his body was aching for at the moment.

The next step would be to add the nipple clamps, but at the last minute he decided to forego them. His nipples were extremely sensitive, and there was no way he would be able to hold off coming if he had them on as well.

His computer continued to softly play music in the background as he picked up the ice locks. He attached one to his left wrist cuff, slightly surprised by the feeling of the added weight on his arm. The lock clicked into place easily as he brought it down to the silver D-ring attached to his waist.

When his left wrist was firmly locked in, he pulled it away from his body gently testing how much range of motion he had. His hands weren’t as close in to his waist, but because both of his hands would be secured, he would be less free to move than he was the day before. Once all of the ice melted, the rod in the barrel would be free and he would be able to pull his wrists away.

He brought his right hand across his body so that he could attach the lock with his left hand, then once the lock was secure he used his right hand to attach the clasp to his waist.

There was again a moment where he relaxed back into the chair, letting the tension flow away from him. The metal of the ice locks was a bit cold if he didn’t move his hands a certain way, so his arms had to stay a bit more tense than they had yesterday.

As he suspected, everything today was a bit… more. With every inhale and exhale he could feel every point of contact between his body and the leather, or his body and the rope. He was entirely more aware of the situation he put himself in, more so than yesterday.

Harry closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him, as he began to breathe in and out steadily. He had done yoga many times before, so he tried to center himself using the exercises he had learned but every time he breathed his cock bobbed, rock hard, in front of him.

Today he had been too distracted to clean up his precome, so it was trickling freely down his shaft, gathering on the section of rope stretched across the very tops of his thighs under his balls.

As he continued to relax, he could feel the floating feeling creep back in, like sinking back into a bath. It was an intoxicating feeling; there was nowhere he needed to be except right here. Nowhere he _could_ be except right here.

Just as his heartbeat began to settle, Harry felt the whole house shift underneath him. As was human instinct, even though he was sitting down, he reached his hands out to steady himself. Or, he tried to, but the cuffs brought him up short, serving as a reminder that he was completely bound, sending a shot of arousal up his spine.

The tremor had also caused him to shift on the plug, changing the pattern of vibration inside him. He couldn’t keep his moan from escaping as the unyielding shape of the plug pressed against his walls.

Harry was so aroused he couldn’t keep his mind on the task at hand, namely that there had been some kind of disturbance; it hadn’t felt strong enough to be an earthquake, and this house had an incredibly solid foundation, so he was sure he was fine. But he couldn’t concentrate on anything other than his own pleasure, and the release his body was screaming for.

He couldn’t have been more than an hour into the duration of the ice lock, there was no way he was going to be able to keep himself from coming for another three until it melted.

Harry was so out of it that he couldn’t place the rhythm and cadence of the sporadic sounds coming from the roof. He barely had enough time to process them as the sound of footprints before there was a massive thud from the back of the house and an almost immediate whooshing sound before the light in the great room changed.

Harry looked up and could see that the skylight had been covered in snow but there was a black streak in it as well. There must have been an avalanche or something.

There was so much sensation where before the house had always been so quiet and peaceful. Nothing inside the house had been affected. His heartbeat was racing a mile a minute, but Harry was completely safe.

His hips began to fuck down on the plug as he felt the vibrations even more acutely rippling through his body. He was trapped in a never ending cycle of fucking himself on the plug, and pulling at his bonds.

Every time he went through the motions he moaned a little more and got a little more forceful in his movements. Harry had never felt this good in his entire life. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in a fantasy; his partner was there with him, he had Harry completely at his mercy. He could reach down and grip Harry’s cock and give him relief, but he chose not too. Instead he would tease Harry, never giving him the fulfillment Harry longed for until he had decided Harry was ready.

The fantasy was so strong Harry could hear the echoes of a male voice in his head, even over the sound of the snow and the blood pounding in his ears.

“C’mon, Tommo, you can do this!” The muffled voice finally penetrated his consciousness a bit more.

That… wasn’t part of his fantasy. Harry’s hips were still moving in infinitesimal circles on the vibrating plug inside him as he opened his eyes, squinting against the odd light in the room. He looked around but couldn’t place the voice anywhere.

Finally, the streak of black moved across the top of the skylight catching Harry’s eye. It was a person. Harry started to hyperventilate a bit. There was a man on his roof. There was a man who was on his skylight. There was a man who might be able to _see_ Harry right now. Tied up, cock unbelievably hard and dripping, on the verge of an orgasm.

Normal people probably would have gone soft by now, or freaked out and tried to get up. But all Harry could think about was what would happen when the man got inside. Because, he was trying to get inside, that much was clear. He was fighting with the edge of the window through the snow trying to lift it - there was a switch to open it up in the summertime to let the mountain breeze into the house.

Harry watched, helplessly, as the man got it open, letting a bit of snowfall in and land on his aunt’s oriental carpet. There was a metal arm keeping it from opening too much, but the man managed to get around and kick it out.

He hadn’t given any indication so far that he had seen or heard Harry who by now was so keyed up, he had no idea what would come out of his mouth when the man finally managed to breach the skylight.

The man who had now pushed the window open against the snow was pushing himself backwards, feet first, into the opening left by the skylight. The weight of the window was resting on his back as he methodically shimmied until just his hands were hanging on the ledge, the window squishing them down, ready to close back up as soon as he let go. Harry watched transfixed as the man took a deep breath, his ribs expanding under the tight, wet shirt he was wearing, before he let go, letting his body drop down two stories onto Harry’s aunt’s carpet.

The man landed as much in a crouch as he could but he did fall over a little bit. It wasn’t the most graceful landing to ever happen.

“I cannot _believe_ I made that without breaking a leg,” the man said to himself as he stood up. His body was facing away from Harry, and Harry was pretty sure he still didn’t know there was another person in the room.

Harry on the other hand was so shocked that there was another person in the house, standing twenty feet away from him - that came in from the skylight no less - that he didn’t know what to do.

Just then, the man turned around in the process of brushing himself off. He looked up finally, presumably to check out his surroundings, and froze.

His eyes met Harry’s and took Harry’s breath away. They were crystal blue - wide, much wider than they probably usually were - and very slowly traveled the length of Harry’s body taking stock of him.

The man was honestly the most gorgeous man Harry had ever seen. Of course he was. If anyone was going to fall out of the sky when Harry was tied up on the verge of orgasm, it was only natural that it was the hottest man ever.

He was about medium height and his muscles were lean, but he had held himself off the edge of the skylight with ease, and had landed with a control that said he had a latent strength in him.

“ _Holy shit_.” The man was gaping at Harry. “Holy shit, this - you - have got to be the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my entire life,” the man said on a rush. He looked around quickly to either side of him and then lifted his hand up to his head.

“I’m not entirely sure - _God_ , you’re beautiful - I’m not entirely sure that I’m conscious right now and that I didn’t just hit my head or something and now this is a dream. Is this a dream?”

The man kept staring at Harry, but his reaction had loosened something in Harry’s chest causing a whimper to rise from the back of his throat as he began to fight at his bonds. There was a strange man and Harry was tied up. He needed to get up, he needed to escape, he needed to get away.

As he struggled, the frozen metal of the locks were hitting his skin and the plug was moving inside of him and his cock was bobbing hard enough that it was brushing the rope between his thighs that were also trapped together, and Harry just needed to _get up_.

“Oh, love, wait. Calm down, please. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise,” the man began to move forward towards Harry with his arms outstretched before he realized what that probably looked like.

The direness of Harry’s situation struck him. If he wanted to get up with any semblance of dignity, he was going to need this man’s help.

The keys. The extra keys for his waist harness.

“Keys,” Harry croaked.

“What, love?” The man asked softly, the endearment falling off his tongue twice now, sending pin pricks of pleasure along Harry’s skin.

“The keys, please,” Harry begged him, trying to point to the extra keys with his right hand. He could have sworn he left them closer than they were, but they could have shifted in the tremor or in the ensuing chaos.

“Keys? Oh! The keys, of course.” The man darted forward towards Harry’s table, getting close enough that Harry could smell the woodsy scent coming off of him even though he was still wet from the snow. That made sense given that he had come in from the woods.

When he had the keys in hand he stood in front of Harry and froze again. He looked down at the keys before looking back up at Harry and repeating the process a few times.

Harry squirmed under the scrutiny of the man’s gaze.

“Okay, love. I can give you this key, or I can use it to help you out. I know it’s uncomfortable, boy do I know, and I am so sorry, but I have a feeling that it will be the quickest and easiest way.”

Harry whimpered again, but nodded forcefully in agreement. The man had already seen him in this state, Harry couldn’t afford to struggle with the locks for however long it took him.

“You’re doing so well, love, but I need you to say to me that you’re okay with me touching you. I promise I will be as quick as I can, but I don’t feel comfortable touching you without you saying it’s okay.” The man pleaded with Harry.

He was right, of course. He was going to have to touch Harry whose erection was aching for release after all this time, and all this excitement, and all this sensation. And the way the man was speaking to Harry was not helping. His voice was soft and raspy and he was praising Harry, saying he was doing well. Edging closer and closer to Harry’s fantasies step by step.

Harry had to make the decision to trust this strange man who just literally dropped into the living room of his remote mountain cabin, and he had to make it fast because if he stayed in this position any longer he was going to come. He could feel his orgasm building, and he had to get away from this man before that happened.

“Yes. It’s okay. I’m okay,” he rushed out voice urgent with need.

“Okay,” the man knelt down in front of Harry to begin undoing the ice locks.

“Wait!” Harry cried out. To his credit, the man halted his movements immediately. He almost looked comical hunched over like that, elbows bent away from his body ready to tackle the small lock. “The remote. _Please_. Turn it off.” Maybe ceasing the vibrations would help Harry stave off his orgasm.

“Remote?” The man asked as he searched the surface of the table. “But the television isn’t-”

The man’s eyebrows shot up as he grabbed ahold of the small plastic remote and his mouth formed a cute little “O,” which again would be comical if Harry wasn’t in such a precarious position.

The man stood back up to his full height as he dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “This has got to be a wet dream. I’m fifteen. I’m going to wake up, and my mum is going to make me a full English while I watch Saturday cartoons. That is the only plausible explanation for this right now.” The man continued to mumble as he studied the remote.

“Which one of these turns it off?” He asked Harry, but his finger must have been too close to the button that turned it up because the vibrations inside Harry increased, and he saw stars, curling in on himself briefly before throwing himself back against the chair

Harry must have started moaning again as well because his reaction startled the man enough that he lost his grip on the remote and it fell onto the webbed rope between Harry's thighs.

“Oh my _God_. I’m so sorry, love. I really am cocking this up.” The man sunk down onto his knees in front of Harry with a jolt.

Later, when Harry wasn’t dying in so many different ways from the mortification, he would have a laugh at the man’s word choice. For now, though, his skin felt like it was stretched too tight across his muscles, and the plastic of the remote, warm from being in the man’s grip, was burning Harry’s thigh. As he squirmed involuntarily on the plug the small rectangle shifted closer and closer towards his hard cock.

“Alright, love, I’m going to reach over and take the remote. Is that okay?” the man asked. Harry nodded vigorously, unable to form the words.

The man rubbed his hands together to warm them up and through his fog of arousal, Harry appreciated the gesture.

Harry immediately regretted it though, when the man put his hand on Harry’s thigh to pick up the remote. The feeling of his warm hands brushing the sensitive skin of Harry’s inner thigh was too much for him to bear.

Between the way his embarrassment had sent heat coursing through his body, the added vibration from the plug, the man’s praise and endearments, the fact that he was _watching_ Harry, seeing how aroused he was, and the idea that Harry was _still tied up_ , all it took was the rough texture of the man’s hand against Harry’s skin to make Harry’s orgasm crash over him in a wave.

Pleasure exploded from the base of his spine and Harry began to whimper loudly as he came harder than he ever had in his entire life. Nothing had ever felt so exquisite that it was almost painful.

He curled in on himself again riding out the aftershocks as it vaguely registered that the man had given up his cautious approach in retrieving the remote so that he could turn it off as quickly as possible before Harry became too sensitive.

The vibrations ceased and the relief flowed through Harry’s body. He squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation and he could just barely hear the man trying to say something as he began to slip into unconsciousness.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_If the sun don't light_  
_And the night won't turn_  
_We'll get a room at the end of the world_  
_And we'll rewrite all the wrongs we've learned_  
_Safe in our room at the end of the world_

 **  
** **PART TWO**

 _There wasn’t supposed to be anyone at the house_. That was the only thing running through Louis’ head as the unforgiving surface of the floor began to wear on his knees even through the carpet.

“That’s it, love,” Louis said as he put the remote for the plug down on the table next to the man in the chair. The remote for the plug that was inside him. Louis took a steadying breath to try and let his heart rate settle down.

The man in front of him had finally relaxed after riding out his orgasm until he passed out, and for good reason, as far as Louis could tell.

Now that Louis was no longer focused on the man, he could take stock of the situation. To start off with, the man was wearing a harness around his waist and his hands were attached with what looked to be ice locks, based on the water that was steadily dripping out of them onto the towel the man was sitting on.

First, Louis needed to clean him up. He took a corner of one of the towels and very gently swiped it across the man’s chest and groin attempting to clean off the come. Louis could remain focused and impartial. He _could_. Especially if it meant making the man as safe and as comfortable as possible. Louis let the towel fall back down to where it was draped on the seat of the chair.

Next, he searched for the keys on the carpet near his knee where he had put them before the man had changed his mind. His fingers felt numb as he picked up the small metal key, fumbling it a few times before he had it firmly in his grip.

Louis had never used ice locks before but he knew basically how they worked. Plus, he was a thief, in theory he could pick any lock. Or he definitely used to be able to before he was rendered completely dumb by the man in front of him.

“Okay, darling, you’ve done so well. Now, let’s get you out of these.” Louis knew the man couldn’t hear him, but he also needed to make sure the man knew that he was there. Whereas before Louis had been careful about touching him, now Louis did his best to maintain contact and he kept his bare arm against the man’s thigh as he went to work on the lock. Skin to skin contact was always beneficial when someone was coming down off of a high like this.

George, Louis’ ex-boyfriend from university, had at one point in their relationship been interested in exploring adding a dominant and submissive flavor to their sex life. They had done all of the research, and Louis learned all about the BDSM lifestyle, but when it came time to actually implement it, there had been a few roadblocks.

They decided, together, that Louis would be the submissive. It started out alright, but Louis was always slightly uncomfortable with George. He never really fully relaxed or let himself go, never did fully submit. In retrospect, he realized that he didn’t really trust George with his safety. When something came up like impact play, George wanting to spank him, or maybe tie him up, Louis didn’t trust George to know what his physical limits were and that off feeling would always pull him out of the scene.

Their sex life didn’t improve; if anything it became even more lackluster than it had been and George would get frustrated and angry with Louis.

Later, when he experimented on his own after they broke up, Louis tried out a more dominant role, and it opened up a whole new world to him. Aside from his exploration with a few one-night stands, he had never been with a true submissive. It was something he always thought about, though, and he never gave up on his curiosity.

Every sub was different, every person was different, so Louis wasn’t sure what this man liked. All he knew was that praise and touch were the pillars of aftercare, so Louis tried his best to do both, keeping up a running commentary while he battled the small release mechanism at the top of the ice lock.

The problem with ice locks was that they weren’t designed to be released early. Louis had been hoping to get the locks off of the man’s wrists because he wanted to get the shocking cold sensation as far away from the rest of his body as he could manage, but it just wasn’t happening. To speed up the release, Louis turned his attention from the locks themselves to how they were attached to the harness.

Louis placed his palm flat against the man’s body, surrounding the base of the clasp that connected the wrist cuff to the waistband in the hopes that if the ice lock moved or fell it would hit Louis’ hand and not the man’s sensitive skin. When he managed to get the lock unhooked from the waist band, he flipped the man’s hand palm side up and unbuckled the wrist cuff. Switching to the man’s other side Louis repeated the process.

Now that the man’s wrists were free of the ice, there wasn’t as much urgency in the rest of Louis’ tasks so he sat back on his heels to give his back a break.

Louis kept his hands on the man’s thighs over the ropes as he rolled his shoulders out a bit. He was trying to ignore the aches and pains from his fall that he could feel emerging, and the icy wet fabric sticking to his skin. This whole thing probably would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t just tried to escape an avalanche, been buried by snow, or fallen two stories onto a wooden floor. All he could do now was push on.

“That’s it, we’ll have you free in no time. You’ve done such a good job.” Louis knew the man most likely couldn’t hear him, but he wanted to keep talking to him. Hopefully his voice was soothing to the man in some way.

Next was the shibari. The man had managed to lock his thighs together with a proper ladder tie. Louis began running his hands over the man’s legs looking for the end of the rope when he stopped suddenly.

Louis had just assumed that the man had done all of this to himself, but between the waist restraint and the ropes, it was all quite complicated. There could be someone else in the house.

Given the long release ice locks, there could be someone else who had gone somewhere expecting the man to stay tied up until he returned. Louis could have interrupted a scene. The man could have a dom nearby.

Inexplicably, disappointment bloomed in Louis’ chest as his thoughts raced at a mile a minute. Just as quickly, though, he dismissed those notions. If someone had come and gone from the house one of their crew would have seen them on the surveillance system that Niall had set up yesterday when they got to the cabin the day before. Niall hadn’t been able to get a good enough angle to see the house close up, hidden by trees as it was, but he did set up a camera to watch the road that approached the cabin.

Assured that he wasn’t intruding, Louis continued to search for the end of the rope. When he found it he slowly began to undo the knots that the man had made. It was a blessing that the man had done this to himself because the knots weren’t as tight as they would have been if Louis tied them and they came apart easily.

Ropes and knots were Louis’ specialty given his previous line of work. He frequently used climbing gear and harnesses to get in and out of places undetected, and he had never been more grateful for that skill.

After he loosened the first few hitches he needed to get the rope out from under the man’s legs. Louis lifted his left leg up and put in on his shoulder across his body. The new position enabled Louis to finish freeing him from the ties. He wound the rope up around this hand as quickly as he could and set it off to the side.

Louis’ joints cracked as he stood up. There was a throw across the back of the couch on the other side of the room, and he rushed over to get it, to both cover the man and hopefully keep him warm.

He didn’t want to wake the man up if it wasn’t necessary, but he also wasn’t sure that he would be able to carry him. From his study of the plans of the house there was a master bedroom off to the side off the great room. If the man was truly alone up here in the house, it was probably a safe bet that he was using it as his bedroom. On the off chance he wasn’t, Louis might have to put him there anyway because he definitely wouldn’t be able to carry him up the large staircase to the other bedrooms.

Louis reached his hand up to the man’s face, running his knuckle along his cheekbone. “Come on, darling, time to wake up.” Louis slid his hand to cradle the back of the man’s head, threading his fingers through the short loose curls framing his face. “Please, love. I’m not sure I can carry you,” he begged.

Finally, the man blinked up at Louis and his eyes shifted, but they were unfocused, and his pupils were blown. _He must be floating_ , Louis thought to himself.

“There you are,” Louis said softly. He found that he couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across his face. The man’s eyes began to slip closed again. “Uh-uh, no you don’t. Come on,” Louis cooed. “I need to get you on your feet.”

Instead of standing up, the man lifted his arms up and draped them around Louis’ neck as if he was going in for a hug. Or holding on while Louis picked him up.

“That wasn’t what I had in mind, but I guess it will work,” Louis huffed. He shifted the man so that his body was draped across the chair at a better angle before getting one arm under his knees and the other around his back.

Despite every single one of Louis’ muscles screaming in protest, he managed to get the man lifted enough that he could carry him bridal style. Unfortunately, Louis was still wearing freezing cold, wet clothes, and the man winced a bit when his side came into contact with Louis’ torso. Walking as briskly as he could with a long gangly limbed man wrapped in a blanket in his arms, Louis raced towards the foyer of the master bedroom.

While he may have been a bit rough on the landing - dropping the man on the bed - Louis did manage to get him there. The bed was neatly made underneath the man’s body, so Louis didn’t bother trying to cover him with the duvet when he already had the blanket from the back of the couch. He re-situated the blanket so that the man was completely covered before he closed the door softly behind him.

Louis realized his mistake, though, as soon as he went to take another step and his shoes squeaked on the floor. He was still sopping wet. He had been too focused before on untying and then not dropping the man to truly understand the bedraggled state he was in at the moment.

He turned to stare regretfully at the door before he approached it again. As delicately as he could, he turned the handle and pushed it back open. The man had turned over onto his side to curl up and was now snoring softly in the most endearing way.

Louis crept across the floor, heading for the dresser first. He opened the top left hand drawer and was met with an array of sex toys that could rival his own collection.

“You naughty boy,” Louis said to the man, a little louder than he had intended. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as the pushed the drawer closed again. Then he moved onto the next. Most people kept their under garments and pyjamas in the top drawers of dressers. Louis wasn’t sure why that was, just a quirk of human nature.

He slid the top right hand drawer open. “Holy shit,” he whispered. There, laid out in front of him, was a pile of lacy lingerie. Louis’ limbs were heavy with shock. “Listen, I don’t know who you are, but would you like to marry me? That would be grand.”

Louis had been doing his best since he dropped in and saw the man in the chair for the first time to be as non-threatening as possible. Between the shock and adrenaline he had managed to keep himself under control and not get hard. He couldn’t believe that lace was his downfall as he began to stiffen in his tight trousers. The ones he was wearing were black and stretchy, effectively jeggings, as they were the easiest for him when he was on a job because of the range of movement they allowed. But that also meant he had nowhere to hide an erection.

Attempting to ignore the flimsy silk under the tips of his fingers and not imagine it lining the bum cheek of the very attractive stranger lying in the bed behind him sleeping off what could only have been a mind-blowing orgasm, Louis pushed everything to the side. He dug through layers of dainty colorful fabric before his hand finally hit cotton. He pulled out a pair of black briefs and shrugged his shoulders. They would have to do.

There wasn’t any kind of undershirt or plain t-shirt in any of the remaining drawers, so Louis made his way to the closet. All he could see was a row of neatly pressed button-down shirts and slacks. Knowing anything would be better for him than his snow-wet clothes, Louis grabbed one of the shirts before making a hasty retreat out of the bedroom, stopping to get one last brief glance at the man on the bed.

If Louis had any luck, he could find the painting and get out before the man even woke up.

His chest ached a bit at the thought of leaving the man there, but Louis had a job to do. His in-ear comm had been knocked out during his escape from the avalanche so he had no way of contacting Niall. His snow shoes were probably buried in snow, so he would have to rough it in his wet climbing shoes going back up the mountain towards the cabin.

For now, though, he needed to get his wet clothes off so he could dry them while he looked for the painting he needed. In a place as posh as this, Louis was sure there was a dryer. Thankfully, he found the laundry room on the bottom level with relative ease, doubly grateful that he had taken the time to memorize the blueprint of the house.

Louis stripped off his clothes, popped them in the dryer, then pulled on the briefs and the shirt. The shirt was a short sleeve button-down, so it wasn’t doing much for him in terms of warmth, and neither were the briefs, but at least they were dry.

Now all Louis had to do was find the painting and get out of there.

 

An hour later, Louis’ clothes were almost dry, he had found the painting, popped it out of it’s frame and rolled it up. His plan earlier was to break into the house, grab the painting, then circle back and load the painting into a flexible sleeve that was sitting with his gear. That plan was shot to hell because his gear was most likely buried, so he had to improvise. He had grabbed some cling film from the kitchen and had successfully sealed the painting all the way around, wrapping it up tight.

Upstairs, the man was still sleeping as far as Louis could tell. Throughout all of his traipsing about, Louis hadn’t heard any noises coming from the master bedroom.

All of that was just fine and dandy, except that Louis couldn’t get out of the house.

There must have been a lot more misplaced snow than Louis had accounted for in the avalanche because every single exit was fully blocked by snow. The front door? Blocked. The basement door? Blocked. Even the garage door was blocked.

Given the angle the avalanche hit the house - Louis should know, he watched it happen - none of the snow had obeyed the laws of physics. Not a single flake.

Theoretically the avalanche should have hit the roof and backside of the house and gone over the top of it at an angle, leaving the garage and driveway clear by at least a few feet on the other side given how the house was situated. Louis’ best guess was that the remnants of the avalanche had been slow moving enough that it crept around the side of the house searching for an open path and gathered up in the driveway, blocking all of the rest of the exits.

The house was completely submerged in snow.

They were stuck.

The next thing Louis did was double check the status of the power to the house and the generator, just in case it had gone out. It was still only midday and the natural light was ample enough that there hadn’t been any noticeable lights on earlier when he had found the man in the chair, just the light streaming in through the large windows.

Louis was at a loss. He hadn’t brought his phone on the job because it weighed him down and he didn’t need it when he had the in-ear comm to talk to Niall, but now that it was lost he had no way to contact Niall. He didn’t even know if the cabin up higher in the woods had been affected by the avalanche. It probably had been because of the size and scale of the slide.

When Louis didn’t check in, it would not look good and he had to trust that Niall would know there was something wrong. Louis and Niall had built up trust over the years, and Niall knew that Louis wouldn’t just take off with the painting himself for some reason. Especially not this painting that wasn’t even particularly valuable. Hopefully Niall would figure out a way to get him out of there.

It was wishful thinking but that was all Louis had at the moment.

When he had finally resigned himself to his fate of being trapped in the royal ski mansion, Louis decided he needed to check in on his beautiful stranger.

As he climbed back up the stairs he passed the set up they had left behind in the great room. On the table next to the chair the man had placed a bowl of trail mix and a water bottle, presumably for after he was done. Louis smiled to himself at the idea of the man being prepared for his own aftercare and inevitable drop in blood sugar or hydration. When the man woke up Louis would definitely make sure he ate something.

He padded gently along the floorboards, still clad in the borrowed pair of briefs and the button down shirt, and cracked open the door to the master bedroom.

Sleeping Beauty was still curled up under the blanket, snoring away, so Louis closed the door again. Leaning back against it, Louis devised a game plan. Once he checked his clothes again, he would change, then hopefully there was some food he could make himself. If there wasn’t food and they were stuck in this house for more than a day, they were going to run into some issues. They couldn’t exactly survive on one shared bowl of trail mix.

Given that the team had been told the property manager was going down the mountain for at least a few days, and the man looked like he was hunkered down in the house, Louis was willing to bet there was some food around.

When he was finally back in his own clothes, fresh and warm from the dryer, Louis put his theory to the test. What he found was a veritable smorgasbord of food. Protein, produce, dry ingredients, anything he could think of was in the refrigerator and pantry. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of options, Louis grabbed a Hot Pocket out of the freezer and threw it in the microwave.

He watched the delicious bready goodness spin around in the cardboard sleeve over the course of the two minutes it needed to cook before the timer beeped loudly and he popped the door open.

Louis danced the hot pastry between his fingertips as he took it out of the microwave before dropping it on the work surface of the island.

Not thirty seconds later, a very sleepy, rumpled looking Sleeping Beauty came out of the master bedroom wrapped in the blanket from the back of the couch. The beep and door closing ruckus from the microwave must have been what finally woke him up.

The man was rubbing his eyes groggily but froze when he finally saw Louis. They stared at each other over the span of exactly three heartbeats before the man turned tail and ran back towards the sanctuary of the master bedroom.

“No! Wait!” Louis called after him desperately as he grabbed the man’s food, attempting to chase him but slipping around in his stocking feet while trying not to spill the trail mix or lose his grip on the water bottle. “You need to eat something! Wait!” He kept yelling but the man had slammed the door of the bedroom when Louis was still a few feet away.

Louis sighed and knocked on the door with the water bottle. “Please, love. I don’t want to hurt you. Your blood sugar is probably low, you need something to eat, and you need to drink some water. Please,” he begged at the wooden door frame.

There was no answer, so Louis knocked again. “Please?”

When again the man said nothing, Louis tried a different approach. “Okay, look, if I promise to go away and not stand here waiting for you, will you _please_ take the food and water at least?”

The man still didn’t say anything, so Louis had to trust that it really was okay. He walked away back to the kitchen, where he stood at an angle that was not in view of the master bedroom foyer and calmly ate his Hot Pocket.

After blindly waiting for a few minutes, Louis grew impatient, so he went looking for another bathroom. Just to have something else to do.

When he came back downstairs a few minutes later, he snuck a glance at the master bedroom door and the food was gone.

Louis approached the door and knocked on it once again, in order to be able to tell himself he had done everything he could to try and draw the man out. There wasn’t any answer, not that Louis had expected there to be, but he could hope.

He sighed and slid down the wall of the foyer so that he was sitting facing the door. After the physical beating his body had taken so far that day he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to get up again, but he really needed to have a conversation with the man, no matter how one-sided it was.

“Okay, look. I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now. I’m sure this is all a little weird.” Louis could have sworn he heard a scoff from the other side of the door but it also could have just been more snow shifting. “But the truth is this avalanche has buried us in here. We’re completely surrounded by snow. While you were sleeping I checked all of the exits that I knew of, everything. I can’t get to my gear or to my friends, so I’m not sure I have a way of contacting anyone to get us out. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, but it looks like we’re stuck up here for awhile.” Louis paused because deep down he really was hoping the man would say something. He didn’t.

“We’re fine for now, I guess. You’ve had the trail mix, I ate the Hot Pocket, but if we don’t get dug out in the next few hours - which, up here I highly doubt will happen - you’re looking at pasta or beans on toast for dinner because those are about the only two things I know how to make. Just so you know. If you want anything better with all of that beautiful food that’s in the pantry, you’re going to have to come out of there and make it yourself.” Still nothing.

“While you’re deciding I’m going to go ahead and watch your incredibly sick television because it’s way nicer than anything I have at home, and there is likely a football match on somewhere in the world that I can watch in very high definition.” Louis slapped his hands on his thighs before moving to stand up, only groaning a tiny bit when all his joints straightened out. He was twenty-eight, not exactly the spring chicken type cat burglar he was when he was first starting out at eighteen, but definitely not old enough to be having joint pain. The snow earlier probably hadn’t helped.

Now all he had to do was wait.

 

Louis tried to concentrate on the football match, he did, but it was hard when he was keeping one ear out for the man holed up in the master bedroom.

As the time passed, dusk was settling over the valley and Louis came up close to the glass so he could try and see the full extent of the damage but all he could see was trees and snow for miles and miles. The misplaced snow from the avalanche had been settling, but was heavily weighing down some of the branches closer to the house.

Sometime later he was back to watching television when he finally heard the man’s quick footsteps on the hardwood floor; he must have darted into the bathroom. Louis vaulted off the couch to make his way across the room and wait for him in the foyer.

Louis didn’t want to scare the man, he really didn’t, but they were both stuck there and they needed to at least _talk_ about it.

They absolutely did not have to talk about the fact that the man had tied himself up to get himself off if he didn’t want to. Louis could be responsible and non-threatening, he could, and it was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life, but he could ignore it if he had to as long as it made the man more comfortable.

It also might be nice to learn the man’s name.

Louis crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall of the foyer. He wouldn’t go so far as to block the man’s path back to his sanctuary, but he also couldn’t afford to be ignored.

When the door to the bathroom opened again, the man was fully dressed in a pair of the slacks and a button-down from the closet Louis had explored earlier. He had also added a thicker framed pair of glasses and had gelled his loose curls back away from his face so they were now a bit more under control. The shape of the quiff was nice, suited him, but Louis had really liked digging his fingers into his soft hair. A feeling he would probably never be able to feel again based on how today had gone so far.

Pushing the twinge of hurt down, Louis broke the silence. “Hello.”

The man’s eyes widened briefly, “Oh, erm… Hello?” As soon as the words were out of the man’s mouth, he glanced to the side, eyeing the open doorway. Louis could see him tense, he was practically a textbook example of what the “flight” of a “fight or flight” reaction looked like.

“No, wait!” Louis exclaimed, holding his hands out placatingly, “Please don’t disappear again. We really have to talk about this. We’re stuck here. I don’t have a phone or anything. I used the phone line to call the number listed for the property manager but no one picked up. I don’t know what my crew thinks or if they’re even going to be able to get here. I don’t even know your name,” Louis pleaded.

He cringed as he sounded a bit pathetic to his own ears, but the man seemed to sympathize with him a bit at least.

“Yeah, erm,” the man paused to clear his throat. “Sorry. Sorry about that. I called his cell phone? The property manager? He’s still down-- down the mountain. And he’s saying that the roads up here are blocked. They’re not sure when we’ll be clear again.”

His voice was syrupy and rich, and his cheeks were a pretty pink color as he came to the end of his speech and Louis found his spirits weren’t nearly as dashed as they were before at the idea of being stuck here for awhile. “And your name?” Louis asked tentatively.

“Oh. Oh! Erm… Well… Marcel?” he replied. Louis raised his eyebrow but didn’t say anything. That was certainly the oddest reaction he had ever received in response to asking for a name. Louis worked with thieves for a good ten years before he went legal. Grifters, con men, all of them. One of the best - Maren - was just now farther up the mountain, probably being tortured in some way because she was stuck with Niall and Bressie. This man was a horrible liar.

Louis wasn’t sure why he wanted to conceal his name, maybe it was the bondage, maybe it was just a general distrust of strangers. Whatever it was, Louis wouldn’t judge him for it. Everyone deserved their privacy.

“Hi, Marcel. I’m Louis.” Now that Marcel was more cognizant of his surroundings, Louis wasn’t sure how comfortable he would be with crossing a physical boundary like shaking his hand after their episode this afternoon. Instead Louis just lifted his hand in a little wave, keeping a good four feet of floor space between them. He had this whole non-threatening thing down, and could only hope that Marcel agreed with him.

Marcel didn’t say anything else, just nodded his head a bit in acknowledgement of Louis’ greeting. On the plus side, he did look a little less like a cornered bunny rabbit, ready to dart away and disappear under a bush. Maybe if Louis kept talking, he could get Marcel to relax a bit more. It seemed to be working so far.

“So, Marcel, what are you doing up here all alone in one of the royal family’s holiday houses?” If it was at all possible, Marcel’s blush deepened.

“I’m a… cousin...  They’re just letting me borrow it for a few days.”

While Marcel was still hiding something, this answer felt less like a lie than his name had.

“Cousin? Wow. That’s a pretty great hook up when you’re in need of a holiday.” Louis was laying the small talk on pretty thick and Marcel must have been able to see right through him because he giggled at him before agreeing.

Now that Louis had edged his way towards getting Marcel to loosen up and be a bit less scared of him, or embarrassed, or something - Louis wasn’t quite sure what was going on in Marcel’s head - he did his best to keep up a running chatter.

The house seemed to be the only topic Marcel was comfortable talking about, so Louis slowly managed to coax Marcel into the kitchen by asking as many question as he could. It took about twenty minutes, but soon Marcel was openly conversing with Louis as they moved away from the foyer of the master bedroom.

Casually, as he was explaining the architecture style of the home, Marcel opened the fridge and took out a bottle of sparkling water. _Good_ , Louis thought absentmindedly. Marcel needed to stay hydrated.

“Would you like one?” Marcel asked him, holding the bottle up so Louis could see the label.

“No thank you,” he replied brushing it off. “But, I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said if you want anything interesting for dinner you’re going to have to make it. Based on all this food I can only guess that you know how to cook.”

“How do you know I don’t have some chef hiding away somewhere?” Marcel quipped as he turned around to dig through the ingredients in the fridge.

Louis blanched. It certainly _sounded_ like Marcel was joking, but it hit a little too close to Louis’ fear that there was someone else in Marcel’s life and he was intruding. Or, there was someone else who would find out that Louis was in the process of breaking and entering. “Uh…” Louis drew out.

Concerned, Marcel turned around sharply. “Oh my goodness, no! I was kidding.” He laughed nervously before he started pulling both sealed tupperware containers and fresh ingredients out of the fridge.

Louis sat down on one of the barstools that was pulled up to one side of the large island worktop. “What have we got, then?”

Marcel took the lid of the first container; “This is leftover pappardelle with wild boar ragu.”

Louis scrunched his nose up. “Wild boar?”

Marcel bit his bottom lip and wouldn’t meet Louis’ eyes. “Yeah, it’s my favorite. I made it two nights ago.”

Louis immediately felt horrible. He hadn’t meant to insult Marcel with his own picky eating habits. “Oh, well… it smells really good?”

Exasperated at Louis’ attempts at placating him, Marcel smiled before rolling his eyes. “Thanks.” He paused for a moment studying the other ingredients. “I could make something new if that’s not to your taste,” he bit out playfully at the end. He was definitely mocking Louis.

“Oi, alright. I’m sorry I don’t have a very refined palate.”

Marcel smirked at him, “That’s okay, I can make spag bol.”  

Louis stared at him for a second before he burst out laughing. “I appreciate that, thanks.”

Marcel smiled at him widely as if he was actually pleased that he had landed on something that Louis liked and wanted to eat.

Everything about the day felt surreal. Between the avalanche, finding Marcel, taking care of him, and now talking to him. They were being somewhat careful with each other and definitely not talking about that afternoon, but at the same time it felt like Louis had always known Marcel, like they were friends.

Louis watched as Marcel bent down to pull a large enamel pan out of the lower cabinet. The cotton twill material of his higher cut slacks stretched enticingly across his pert bum and under the brightness of the kitchen lights, Louis could just make out the lacy texture of his panties.

 _Fucking hell_. Maybe ‘friends’ was a little tame for what Louis was currently feeling. Marcel made quick work of the veggies he had pulled out, roughly chopping them up and throwing them all into the hot oil that was sizzling in the pan.

“Can I help you with anything?” Louis asked, praying he would say no.

Marcel shrugged with his back to Louis still. “It’s alright this shouldn’t take long.”  He leaned over again to pull out a pot for the pasta and Louis had to divert his gaze so he didn’t catch a glimpse of Marcel’s panties again. Those panties might just end his life. “If you want you can grab my computer and put on some music.”

Louis hopped out of his chair grateful for something to do that didn’t involve cooking or ogling and headed over to where the computer was resting by a chair. _The_ chair. Where Marcel had been tied up. Now that Marcel back in the same room as him, it felt a bit to Louis like he was returning to the scene of the crime.

It wasn’t _really_ a crime. For Louis it was, but for Marcel it wasn’t. Louis shook his head - even his thoughts were getting tangled up and turned around.

He grabbed Marcel’s laptop and headed back to the kitchen. In the amount of time it had taken him to work through his inner turmoil, Marcel had already added everything else to the pan, and it was beginning to look like a much fancier spag bol than Louis had ever had before. Meat and veggies were popping away in the oil and the smell was so enticing Louis didn’t even realize he was halfway to the stove until he was standing directly in front of it.

Louis still didn’t want to invade Marcel’s personal space, but when he looked up to apologize, Marcel was close enough that Louis could feel his breath against his cheek.

“Erm, sorry. Do you mind?” Marcel whispered as he reached in front of Louis’ body to grab the salt and pepper. Belatedly, Louis realized how intimately they had been standing and sprung back a bit.

Louis made a hasty retreat to his seat at the island. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll let you get to it. Smells good.” He busied himself with opening up Marcel’s computer to look at his music library and was surprised to find a really wide range of music. By assuming they didn’t have the same taste in music, Louis supposed he was judging Marcel based on his appearance which he absolutely hated to do with anyone. No one ever knew what other people were hiding away from the world.

Louis must have been making a face at the computer because his thoughts were interrupted by Marcel; “Everything alright?” he asked as his glasses steamed up from draining the pasta.

“Yeah, good, just snooping,” Louis assured him as he began to ask Marcel about his music preferences. They continued on like that, talking about random things like music and different bands they both knew. If Louis didn’t know any better it really would feel like they were just hanging out on any random Friday night. But they weren’t.

It hadn’t escaped Louis’ notice that Marcel couldn’t know why Louis was there or how Louis had come to fall from his skylight. If Louis were in his place he would be demanding answers, but Louis also had a feeling that anything that happened this afternoon was to be avoided at all costs, falling under the heading of “Do Not Talk About This” for Marcel.

The smell of the sauce radiated through the kitchen as Marcel added the pasta to the pan and stirred everything up. His fluid movements were vastly different from his earlier awkward shyness. Either he really was beginning to open up and feel more comfortable with Louis, or he really enjoyed cooking. Maybe both.

Marcel grabbed two plates, and served each of them a generous helping before grating parmesan cheese on top and chopping up some parsley as well.

“Alright, posh boy,” Louis teased. The only thing he really knew about Marcel was that he was some kind of distant cousin to the royal family. Close enough to be given free reign of this house and have the property manager’s cell phone number.

Marcel blushed again as he pushed Louis’ plate towards him. Louis had made Marcel blush a few times already in the odd few hours that they had known each other, and he found he quite liked doing it. He couldn’t help the sense of satisfaction that radiated through him at the sight.

The questions Louis had about Marcel and his penchant for self-bondage were pressing against his throat, dying to be let out. His mind just wouldn’t let them go. On top of that, he had to figure out how they were getting off the mountain.

Anton would only wait for the painting for so long before he started to grow restless. Louis didn’t think he was dangerous at all, they had been friends long enough that he would never threaten Louis. But, Louis also didn’t ask any questions as to why he needed the pigment from the painting aside from forgery. He didn’t know why Anton was forging something, didn’t know who had ordered it. There could be a deadline that Louis didn’t know about. It was his own fault for not asking.

Louis tried to organize the remaining questions he had in order of importance in his mind. Selfishly, he was desperate to ask Marcel about this afternoon. Realistically, he knew he had to figure out his exit, and what story he was going to tell Marcel.

He twirled the noodles around his fork, shoved a bite into his mouth, and promptly dissolved into a pile of mush.

“Oh my God, this is amazing,” Louis said without finishing the bite, bringing his hand up to his mouth to cover up the fact that he had most likely spewed sauce everywhere.

Marcel bore witness to his struggle and let out a sharp honking laugh before slapping his own hand over his mouth as well as if he was trying to contain the sound. His shoulders continued to shake despite his attempts at silencing himself.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?” Louis asked once he had properly chewed and swallowed his food.

“My ch- Erm. My friend is a chef. I learned from him, mostly.” Marcel rolled his lips together and averted his gaze by feigning interest in his own pasta. That seemed to be all Louis was going to get on that, then.

“That’s cool,” Louis replied, grasping at straws, not wanting to let the conversation die. It died anyway. “So… Maybe we should talk about getting out of here?”

Marcel finally looked up at him again. “Is there anything we can do really? You said you checked the exits. The property manager said all of the roads were closed because they were covered. It kind of sounds like all we can do is just… wait.”

“How long is the property manager’s holiday?” Louis asked as he swirled another bite. He was so engrossed in his delicious food that he didn’t notice a lack of response until there had been at least thirty seconds of silence. When he looked up, any trace of humor on Marcel’s face was gone and he was scrutinizing Louis. “What?” he asked around a bite.

“What did you say?” Marcel asked tentatively.

Louis must have said something wrong and he didn’t want to repeat the mistake, so he tread carefully. “What do you mean?”

“You just asked me how long his holiday was.” Marcel was beginning to look more wary and frightened, which was the exact opposite of Louis’ goal. He wanted Marcel to trust him. If Marcel didn’t trust him, he might not believe whatever excuse Louis provided for what he was doing there.

Louis opened his mouth to say something but he wasn’t even sure what was wrong and Marcel wasn’t giving anything away. “Right. Well, you said earlier that he was away on holiday. I was just wondering when we could expect him back.”

“No I didn’t,” Marcel responded, still scrutinizing Louis.

Louis was beginning to grow uncomfortable under his stare. “Sorry?”

“I told you he had gone down the mountain, I didn’t say where he was.” Marcel curled in on himself a bit, his pasta congealing on the plate in front of him untouched. Louis was torn between wanting to dismiss Marcel’s concerns to save his own skin or wanting to tell Marcel the truth to make him feel safe. Which made absolutely no sense because the truth involved the fact that Louis was in the middle of grand larceny.

But Louis _also_ knew that somehow the truth was always more comforting.

But Marcel could turn him in if he knew.

While Louis went around and around arguing with himself all that came out of his mouth was, “Um…”

“Louis,” Marcel sat up a little straighter, gathering his courage. This was not going to end well for Louis, in any way. He could already tell. “I really appreciate everything you--” Marcel stopped suddenly; he must have realized where that train of thought led. “You’ve been great. But you also dropped into my house from the skylight in the middle of an avalanche, and I haven’t really asked you about that yet, and now you know specific details of where the property manager is. I wasn’t born yesterday, I know there is something going on here.”

Marcel’s breathing was a little heavier from the effort the confrontational speech had taken as he came to the end of it.

Throughout his life, Louis had always been a quick thinker. He had always been able to sweet talk his way out of trouble at school, always gotten out of getting grounded by his mum. There was no situation he couldn’t finesse. Except for this one.

His mind was white noise as he tried to think of excuse after excuse, and they all led to nothing. His mouth was hanging open foolishly.

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about” Louis replied, but it was pure instinct, his heart wasn’t in the lie and Marcel knew it.

Marcel didn’t accuse Louis, though. He just sat there, pushing his cold pasta away from himself where he was seated across the island, folding his hands together in front of him, and waiting.

Louis took a deep breath. “I may not have come here by accident.” Marcel snorted. “Okay, look. I need a painting that you have - had - downstairs.”

“You need it?” Marcel’s eyes were wide and his eyebrows were climbing steadily higher. Louis wasn’t sure he had actually been expecting him to admit the truth.

“Yes. My friend needs to use it to sample a pigment. All he needs is a tiny bit to mix with some new paint, and then we don’t need it anymore,” Louis explained.

“Oh, so you’re here to steal it,” Marcel nodded as he began to understand.

“Borrow!” Louis exclaimed loudly in his own defense before he caught himself. “I was going to _borrow_ it. We have a plan to bring it back.”

“We?” Marcel asked.

Damn. Louis had slipped up twice in the span of a very short conversation.

Marcel didn’t even let him try to backtrack this time. “Earlier you said something about a crew as well. Is that what you mean by ‘we’?”

Louis didn’t mention the crew. Did he? “Did I?”

“When you found me, after…” he trailed off.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Crew.” Louis wasn’t sure where to go from there if Marcel was so insistent on not discussing Louis’ arrival.

“Are they nearby?”

Louis sighed. “They were when I left them. We’ve been holed up for the last twenty-four hours in the hunting cabin up the mountain.”

“That place? Me and-- I used to go up there when I was a kid.” Louis was beginning to notice that Marcel had a tell. Whenever he cut himself off, or he was clearly lying, he would bite his bottom lip and refuse to make eye contact. As far as tells went, it wasn’t the most difficult one to identify.

“I have no idea if they’re still up there, if they were hit by the avalanche, or if they’re looking for me. I didn’t bring my phone.” Louis refused to let himself panic. Niall was very capable of handling emergencies.

“If you don’t have a phone, how did you communicate with them?”

“I had an in-ear comm that got knocked out when I was escaping,” Louis said reaching up to rub the outside of his ear around the phantom earwig.

“Escaping… through my skylight.”

“Oi, it’s your skylight now is it?” Louis teased, but Marcel only blushed and looked away. That was odd. “I’m just not sure how much time I have to get the painting to the person who needs it.”

“You’ve already found it and taken it then?” Marcel asked.

“ _Borrowed_ it… Yes I have.”

“Oh…” Louis couldn’t tell if Marcel was disappointed, if he was going to ask for it back; he genuinely had no idea what Marcel was thinking. “That’s alright, I suppose. No one uses it here. As long as it gets back soon.” Marcel shrugged.

“Two weeks,” Louis assured him.

“Okay.” Marcel paused, “If there’s a terrible rush, there is something else - someone else - I can call. But that would be a very drastic solution, and I would really like to avoid it if at all possible.” Marcel was back to biting his lip nervously and shifting in his chair.

“That’s alright. I’m sure Niall will be able to find me to get me - us, if you like - out of here. I’m just not sure how long it will take him. I would just use the landline but he’s only got a burner phone with him so I haven’t memorized the number.”

Marcel nodded in agreement but didn’t say anything else. The silence fell between them again, but this time it was much less weighted. The truth really did help in alleviating some of the awkwardness.

While they were on a roll eradicating barriers, Louis took the leap; “So. Would you like to talk about this afternoon, then?”

Every muscle in Marcel’s body stiffened and the fragile skin beneath the outside corner of his eye twitched infinitesimally. “I’m not really up for it, if it’s all the same to you.”

Louis didn’t want to let it go, but he also didn’t want Marcel to feel cornered. Again. “That’s fair,” he replied.

Marcel finally dragged his pasta dish back towards his place and began eating it again. By this time it had definitely cooled completely, but he didn’t say anything as he finished his meal.

When both their bowls were finally clear, Louis was still thinking about that afternoon. He offered to wash the dishes - something he _never_ did - if only to keep his hands busy.

Marcel suggested putting on a film, and Louis would be able to watch it as well if he used the sink that was built into the island, so he agreed and set to work soaking the pots and pans as Marcel brought up Netflix. A familiar melody began to play and Louis looked up to see the opening credit sequence of _The Italian Job_. He loved that movie. It was a totally inaccurate portrayal of how heists really worked, but it was an entertaining movie. Having the safe drop down through three stories and land in the canal water without any kind of disturbance? Totally unrealistic.

Louis was concentrating on the dishes so it wasn’t until five minutes into the movie that he realized how much he had been played.

“You little shit!” Louis cried out snapping the towel at Marcel from his place in the kitchen. “ _The Italian Job_? Really?”

Marcel burst out laughing as though he had been holding it in the entire time the movie had been playing. He was laughing so hard he almost unseated himself from the couch and he had to take his glasses off to make sure they didn’t get tear tracks on them.

By the time Marcel had stopped laughing, Louis was done with the dishes and ready to join him on the couch. He settled down at the other end, a respectable distance away, and curled his feet up.

They stayed like that for awhile, but Louis couldn’t get comfortable; his mind was restless still, and when his mind was restless, his body was restless. He had been that way since he was a small child.

“Do you want me to go get the blanket?” Marcel asked. As soon as he finished speaking though, his cheeks lit up with a blush again. The blanket was gone because Louis had wrapped him in it earlier and Marcel must have left it in his room.

He had provided Louis with an opening, and Louis was just desperate enough to use it.

“No, thank you. That’s alright,” Louis replied. He watched as Marcel concentrated intently on the television screen in front of them, gaze never wavering despite Louis staring at his profile. “About this afternoon…” Louis trailed off, hoping Marcel would pick up the conversation himself.

“What about this afternoon?” Marcel asked a bit petulantly. As the day wore on he was getting cheekier and cheekier. Louis quite liked this side of his personality if he was being honest.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Louis asked. He tried to keep his tone light and tried to make it sound like he wasn’t nagging. Because he wasn’t. Much.

Marcel folded his legs up onto the couch, tucking his stocking feet underneath him and burying his face in his knees. Louis wasn’t sure Marcel could curl more into a little ball if he tried.

“Hey,” Louis said as he began to lean forward before deciding against it. “I’m not judging you. I promise. _Believe_ me.”

Marcel rolled his forehead on his knees until he peeked back up at Louis. “I mean… I guess-- I guess I have a few questions for you too,” he whispered.

Louis smiled as warmly as he could at him, “I’m an open book.”

“Okay, well, as you can probably figure out… I really like-- erm. I like…” Marcel was blushing profusely now and stumbling over his words. Louis could tell he wasn’t going to be able to say it.

“Being tied up?” Louis prompted. The tension fell out of Marcel’s shoulders and he looked a little relieved at not having to be the one who said it out loud.

“Yeah,” Marcel agreed softly. “But, see. I can’t really try it at… home.”

“Do you live with your parents or something?”

Marcel snorted a laugh. “Something like that.”

Now that they had gotten the conversation going, Louis didn’t want to stop their momentum.“So you wanted to give it a try?”

“Yeah,” Marcel murmured.

“Would you ever want to have a... partner involved?” The conversation had only been stilted and awkward up until Louis asked the question that had been weighing on his mind. Now, the silence was tense.

Marcel sighed again before he began picking nonexistent lint off his knees where they were still bent up in front of his face. “I can’t really do that either.”

“Oh?” Louis asked. Maybe Marcel’s parents didn’t give him any privacy and were homophobic and didn’t want him having a relationship with a man. That thought led to another one that brought Louis up short. He didn’t _actually_ know that Marcel was gay. His heart gave a jolt and he sat up a little straighter on his end of the couch. Louis very well could have just developed a ginormous crush on a straight guy.

“It’s not like I can go out and ask any guy on the street to ‘please tie me up and dom me and be discreet about it,’ can I?” Marcel burst out, frustration bleeding into his tone.

Any _guy_. Louis relaxed. “Do you mean because you’re connected to the royal family? Surely a cousin isn’t scrutinized that much?”

Marcel began rubbing at his knee trying to press out an invisible wrinkle. “No, you’re right. They just get a bit extra worried about public relations things.”

Louis nodded, “I see.” There was something else bothering him about Marcel’s story. “Have you ever tried bondage with someone else? I know you said you don’t have anyone now, but has there been someone before?”

Marcel bit his lip, “I mean, I’ve had boyfriends before.”

“But no one you’ve tried any kind of bondage with?” Louis clarified, an inexplicable bubble of hope rising in his chest.

“No.”

It was silly of Louis that throughout the whole conversation he had remained calm, cool, and collected but now that Marcel said he hadn’t had anyone else tie him up, arousal began to dance under Louis’ skin.

That smacked of possession, something that Louis had always hated in relationships, especially from his ex-boyfriends. Plus, Marcel wasn’t even attached to him in any way. They had only just met that afternoon. Louis needed to get a grip.

“Louis, can I ask you something?” Marcel’s voice was practically a whisper.

“Sure.”

“How did you know… How did you know what to do with me?” he asked.

That had not been the question Louis was expecting. “Oh.”

“Never mind, you don’t have to tell me,” Marcel rushed out quickly as though he hadn’t just sat there and answered every single one of Louis’ very personal and invasive questions.

“Sorry, no. I was just surprised; I’ll absolutely tell you. My ex-boyfriend wanted to try adding kinkier things into our sex life and be more dominating in the bedroom. It didn’t go well,” he finished ruefully.

“What do you mean? Did you not like the kinkier stuff?” Marcel sounded slightly disappointed, and Louis didn’t want him to get the wrong idea or think that Louis was looking down at him and judging him for liking it. He had seen Marcel curl in on himself more than once as a coping mechanism already when he was feeling insecure, and Louis never wanted him to feel like that ever again.

“No, no! Nothing like that. I liked the idea of spicing up our love life, just not the way he had planned.”

“No?” Marcel asked. “Different kinks?”

“You could say that. He liked being more dominant, but… so did I. And he wasn’t willing to be versatile.”

The corner of Marcel’s mouth quirked up. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Louis agreed.

“Have you ever?”

Louis scratched the back of his head, not sure how to answer the question. “I suppose so. I’ve tried a couple times with people. Mostly one night stands, though. I’ve never really had an actual full on relationship where that was involved.”

“Oh,” Marcel repeated.

Louis had gotten the idea when Marcel first complained about not being able to find anyone to dom him; the idea had taken root, grown. Now, like everything else, Louis couldn’t get it out of his head.

Marcel was gorgeous, was the thing. Louis could tell he liked to hide behind his clothes and his glasses, gel his hair back. Louis wasn’t sure why, but that didn’t matter, he was still gorgeous. Personal style had never mattered to Louis much before, if he was honest. He lived in sweatshirts and joggers the majority of the time when he wasn’t working.

Something about Marcel; his personality, the cheeky way he had taken Louis’ admission to being a thief totally in stride before making fun of him by putting on a heist movie, the vulnerable way he had explained exploring his kinks - those were the qualities that were attractive to Louis. It didn’t hurt that Louis had already seen him naked as well.

Louis had no idea how long they would be up there, how long they would be stuck. He was an impulsive person, the kind of person who knew the right way to fall two stories from a skylight into a mansion that wasn’t his without breaking a leg. The kind of person that had stolen things for a living for ten years. He didn’t want to live his life with regrets.

“Look, Marcel, this is wildly inappropriate, and I’m sorry, but I can’t not say it.” Marcel inhaled sharply at Louis’ outburst. “If you want to be tied up, truly, for real - not just having to restrain yourself - I can do it for you. I have actually learned some shibari techniques, mostly through doing things that are slightly illegal and not relevant right now, but I can help. I promise I won’t harm you, or judge you, or anything that would make you uncomfortable. This would be entirely about you and everything would be your choice.”

By the time he finished Marcel was blushing again and biting down on his bottom lip. “Oh… Erm… Thank you. For the offer.”

That sounded like a rejection and Louis’ spirits fell a bit.

“I’ll-- Erm. I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” Louis whispered. He had officially made everything a million times more awkward. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Marcel only nodded and went back to pressing out his invisible wrinkle using the weight of his palm. “How did you become a thief?” Louis almost didn’t hear Marcel he had asked the question so quietly.

“When I finished sixth form we didn’t have much money, not enough for me to go to uni, so I got a job close to home like anyone else would.” Marcel hummed in agreement throwing Louis’ concentration off a bit. “I was known in school for being pretty sneaky and scrappy so when a local crew was recruiting for a big job in London, An-- someone… thought of me and took me under his wing.”

“Is that how you made your living then?” Marcel asked, his voice still soft. Louis appreciated that there was no judgment in his tone; he genuinely wanted to learn about Louis’ life, his story, not just string him up by his toes for leading a life of crime.

“Not quite. I was too small-time, too insignificant on the crew at that point. Jobs were pretty few and far between, it’s not like it is in the movies where there’s one big score,” Louis scoffed nodding at the blank screen of the television. “It was more like supplemental income; gave me enough cushion that I didn’t ever need to worry if an unexpected expense came up or something. Never had to live paycheck to paycheck. Had enough to give most of it to my mum.”

Marcel had turned in his seat so he was fully facing Louis on the couch, so Louis shifted to mirror his position. “That’s nice of you.” Marcel’s smile grew slowly, but eventually it was big enough that two dimples began to indent his cheeks, the left side just a bit deeper than the one on the right.

Louis shrugged, uncomfortable with being praised for something that was just common decency. His mum took care of him when he was younger, when it was just the two of them, before his siblings. Now it was his turn to take care of her.

“The painting from here, you really only need one pigment?” Marcel asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, apparently when Za-- Um. Zee can just add a bit to some new pigment and it will still pass the carbon dating portion of an appraisal and authentication.” Thankfully Louis caught himself before talking about Anton earlier, but now Zayn too. He wasn’t sure when it became so difficult for him to maintain at least a modicum of anonymity.

“And what does this ‘Zee’ need it for?”

Louis shrugged his shoulders again, “Don’t know. Didn’t ask. I just do the job: in and out. Well, not so much the out part this time.”

Marcel looked a bit taken aback by that. “Really? That’s no fun,” he pouted like he was really hoping to be in on the plan. It was adorable. _He_ was adorable.

“It stopped being fun awhile ago. That’s part of the reason why I retired.”

“But you’re here now,” Marcel pointed out.

“Yeah, well, this one was going to pay handsomely - a lot closer to the Hollywood idea of a big score - so I wouldn’t have to do any more jobs. I was dragged out of retirement.” Marcel giggled at Louis’ word choice, making Louis feel warm all over.

Darkness had fallen over the great room, save the few lamps they had on and the meager light still pouring in from the kitchen. Louis was dead-on-his-feet tired after such an eventful day. He did his best to stifle a yawn, but Marcel saw right through him.

“Would you like to get some sleep?” Marcel asked sweetly. Instead of waiting for Louis’ answer he lifted himself up from the couch and neatly folded the blanket over the back of it. “We can go see if one of the bedrooms is made up upstairs?” He again didn’t wait for Louis’ answer before heading off in the direction of the staircase that led to the as yet unexplored upper level.

Louis had seen the blueprints so he knew what the basic layout was, and probably could have found a guest room on his own, but he didn’t want to freak Marcel out any more than he already had. Also, he kind of liked having Marcel show him around and stick with him like this. The warmth from earlier continued to bloom in his chest, but he chose to ignore it.

Marcel had rejected him. Maybe not with so many words, but he hadn’t exactly jumped at the chance to sleep with Louis either.

Now that they were removed enough from the moment Louis was feeling a bit guilty about it. He must have had some kind of confidence to come right out with it and say “Oh, hey! I’m here, I’m a warm body, sleep with me!” Louis really needed to do something about his brain-to-mouth filter. His one goal all day had been making sure Marcel felt comfortable, but given the first opportunity all he had done was proposition him.

A few steady paces behind Marcel, Louis cringed at himself. He didn’t deserve how swiftly Marcel had changed the subject, subsequently smoothing over of any awkwardness between them.

“This is the best bedroom up here,” Marcel declared when they reached an open door at the end of the hallway.

“Oh?”

“It’s where I used to stay when I was younger.” Marcel added sheepishly. Louis could see, especially during interactions like this, that someone somewhere had made Marcel feel insecure about himself in some way, or maybe tried to convince him to hide pieces of himself. Louis kind of wanted to hunt them down and hurt them.

Louis did his best to tamp down that urge before he opened his mouth again. “What the host you are!” he teased. “Thanks, Marcel.”

“Of course.” Neither of them said anything, letting the moment grow between them as they continued to stand staring at each other in the narrow hallway. “So, um, breakfast in the morning?”

There were so many things Louis wanted to say. He wanted to tell Marcel how beautiful he was, wanted to tell him how unbelievably sexy he had looked tied up this afternoon, how he deserved everything he ever wanted in the world including a partner that loved and respected him that he trusted.

It all died on the tip of his tongue.

“Right. Breakfast,” Louis replied before backing into the guestroom. “Goodnight, Marcel,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Louis.” Marcel turned and made his way back down the hallway, his stockinged feet making hushed noises as he shuffled across the hardwood floor before his even steps descended the stairs.

Louis kept the door open as long as he could, listening as Marcel poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen tap; he could hear everything in such an open concept house like this, especially when it was silent. The excess snow enveloping the structure provided even more insulation from the outside world.

 

The next morning Louis squinted against the bright sun that was streaming in through the window, reflecting off the snow.

He was disoriented for a moment trying to get his bearings because he couldn’t quite remember why he was in a strange room. It was quite posh, and smelled of… bacon?

That was when it all came rushing back. The avalanche. Marcel. The chair. _Marcel_.

The smell must have been what woke Louis up. When he finally got the will to dig himself out from under the blankets a few minutes later, he padded down the hallway in his pants searching for a bathroom to freshen up. After finding a closet and two more bedrooms, he finally found a bathroom.

When he entered there was a huge luxurious shower. He wanted to follow his nose downstairs, but the draw of actually feeling clean after the kind of day he had yesterday was too tempting to ignore.

There was a stiffness that had set into muscles that he had just attributed to getting out of bed, but as soon as the hot water hit skin he could feel how tender his back and arms really were. Most likely from his two story fall the day before, if he had to hazard a guess. The heat and pressure was helping immensely, though, so he ended up staying under the spray for much longer than he had anticipated.

It was a good half an hour later by the time he descended the stairs in his same clothes from the day before. They would have to do.

“Morning,” Marcel called over the sizzle of the frying pan as he smiled in Louis’ direction. He was already dressed as well in a button down and slacks, so as far as breakfasts went it was more formal than usual for Louis. Marcel had his hair pulled back again, with an adorable apron tied around his front. His voice was raspy from sleep even though he had clearly been up for awhile.

The whole scene was very domestic, and Louis couldn’t deny that waking up like this was a fantasy of his. If he was being honest with himself that was one of the reasons he got out of the game. He wanted a normal life, wanted to find someone to wake up with, have breakfast with. Taking care of his family in a more legal above-board kind of way was the primary reason, but the chance at a life like this would be a nice bonus.

“Morning,” Louis managed  when he finally pushed past the white noise of pure want in his brain.

“Fry up okay?” Marcel asked.

“Okay?” Louis replied in disbelief. “My usual breakfast is cereal, so anything you make will be amazing.”

Marcel grinned before turning back to the pan. There was already sausage sitting off to the side on a plate.

Louis hopped up on the same bar stool he sat in the night before and again watched as Marcel cooked. They sat in companionable silence like that for awhile - Louis didn’t want to break Marcel’s concentration.

When Marcel finally put a plate down in front of Louis, drool was pooling in his mouth. The whole kitchen smelled amazing and the plate was steaming.

“Thank you so much, this looks delicious.” Louis immediately pierced the egg with his fork so the yolk began to run all over everything.

“Erm. Louis?”

Louis had been too busy eating his breakfast and missed how uncomfortable Marcel looked, until he looked up and realized Marcel hadn’t touched his food at all. Shifting in his chair and unable to sit still, Marcel was biting down on his lip hard enough that his teeth were leaving little white indents

“Are you alright, Marcel?” Louis asked, concerned, as he took another bite.

Immediately, Marcel blushed. Louis began to chew again, putting his fork down slowly.

“Do you remember what we talked about last night?”

Louis remembered everything they talked about last night, there were so many things Marcel could mean. There was one thing Louis _hoped_ he meant, but hope was dangerous.

“We talked about a lot of things,” he replied keeping his voice as even as possible while his heart raced.

“About-- I mean, you said it would be alright…” Marcel struggled with the words, and Louis didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable.

“It is alright, Marcel. Whatever you want to say.”

Marcel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You said you would be willing to… try stuff out with me.”

 _Holy shit_. Louis couldn’t believe it. He needed to try and maintain his composure, even though he was dying inside. His excitement wasn’t what mattered. Marcel’s comfort mattered.

“Of course, anything you want,” he assured Marcel, hoping it didn’t sound as desperate out loud as he thought it did in his head.

“Really? Anything?” Marcel whispered.

“Anything,” Louis swore. “We should talk it out first, though.”

Marcel nodded but didn’t say anything, so Louis took that as his cue to move forward with the discussion. He got the feeling that Marcel was still massively uncomfortable, so the first objective was have him calm down.

“Take a few deep breaths for me, love,” Louis said as Marcel began to comply. “Nothing you can say will turn me off or make me want to stop. I want to be clear about that right now.”

Marcel looked hesitant but nodded again through a heavy exhale.

“What are you looking for if we do this? I know from yesterday you like to be restrained, but is there something about it that’s special for you?”

After he asked, he tucked back into his breakfast, hoping the distraction of finishing their meal would help Marcel to relax. He still hadn’t eaten a bite, so Louis reached across the island and nudged his plate a bit closer to him.

Marcel picked up his fork and took a few small bites as he thought about it before answering.

“When I was figuring everything out, there were a lot of bloggers and stuff that talked about how when they were tied up they didn’t have to worry about anything. The world would just go quiet. I want that.” Marcel finished on a whisper.

“That sounds nice,” Louis replied trying to be as encouraging as he could.

“And I like-- I’ve always liked the idea of feeling… almost… helpless?”

Now they were getting somewhere, Louis thought to himself. “Helpless? In what way?”

Marcel began shifting in his seat again, but at least he was still eating. Louis had a feeling he was going to need his strength. “Well, erm. Like, maybe if you were there, and I was tied up, I like the idea that you could just do anything you wanted. To me.”

“Oh, okay,” Louis answered as casually as he could. In reality, the idea of having Marcel at his disposal, to do with what he wanted, was making him harden in his trousers. He reached down to adjust himself inconspicuously. “I want to ask you about your limits, but keep in mind that if we do this, I just want to stick to restraints for now if that’s alright with you. As we get a feel for your comfort level.”

Marcel visibly swallowed. “I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know, if I’m honest.” He began to shrink down in his chair ashamed of his own lack of an answer.

“That’s fine, we’ll be extra cautious then, and be sure to let me know if there is something you don’t like. Would you be comfortable with the traffic light system, then? “Green” for the all clear, “yellow” to pause and talk about something, “red” to stop?” Louis was glad he managed to sound calm and collected.

Marcel agreed, but was still practically vibrating with nerves.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I stayed clothed and we just concentrated on you for now?” Louis asked. It wasn’t ideal, but with how nervous Marcel was, Louis wondered if it wouldn’t take some of the pressure off of him. When he first tried subbing with George, Louis would get too wrapped up in his own head about making sure George got off even though he felt uncomfortable. It could have just been that  Louis’ experience was just trying it out to save his relationship, and that he was in the role that wasn’t the most natural for him. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t give it another try in the future.

“No,” Marcel rushed out. “I mean, I think I would like it better if you, you know, got off as well.”

“Alright,” Louis couldn’t control the grin on his face.

Marcel smiled back at him for the first time since he started the conversation, “Alright.”

They both took a bite of their breakfast as silence fell. Louis looked up a few times just in time to see Marcel look away, but he did his own share of admiring. The air was thick with the tension between them. Louis knew how eager _he_ was to get started, but this was entirely about Marcel; they would go at his pace.

When Louis had cleaned his plate, he pushed it away from himself on the counter top. Marcel finished but didn’t move to get up.

“Can we maybe do this now? Before I have a chance to freak out about it?” Marcel asked him tentatively.

Louis nodded before closing his eyes for a moment. He wanted to get himself into the right head space. Think about everything he wanted to do Marcel now that he was being given the opportunity. Based on the day before, Louis could guess at a few of Marcel’s kinks, even if the man in question wasn’t sure how to put them into words. He already told Louis that he liked feeling helpless, but Louis thought that praise might also be something important for him as well.

When he opened his eyes again Marcel was sitting very still with his hands crossed in his lap, empty plate in front of him.

“You did so well with breakfast, Marcel. It was amazing. I’m going to clean up now.” Louis had more things planned that he wanted to say, but he saw Marcel open his mouth slightly and inhale before closing it again. “What is it? I always want to hear what you have to say,” Louis reminded him.

“Yesterday, when you didn’t know my name you called me other things. Do you think you could do that? While we…”

His question reminded Louis of his hesitance in giving Louis his name yesterday. The fact that he was asking Louis to actively not use his name set those alarm bells off again, but just like the day before, Louis wasn’t going to press. If people used a fake name, there was usually a specific reason. He was suspicious, but not about Marcel’s intentions. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to get a straight answer out of him now that he seemed to be feeling more at ease.

“Is there something specific you want me to call you? Or just the pet names again?”

Marcel was on the brink of saying something, before he thought better of it; “Just the pet names.”

“Okay then, love,” he winked at Marcel making him blush and show his adorable dimples again. “As I said, it’s only fair that I clean up because you cooked. While I’m doing that, I would like for you to go into your bedroom. When you’re ready, take your clothes off and pick out your favorite pair of panties.” Marcel’s eyes widened when he mentioned the lingerie and Louis chuckled. “Yeah, I saw them when I was looking for dry clothes yesterday. You’ve got a beautiful collection and I would love to see them on you. After you’ve done that, pull out all of the rope you’ve brought and pull out your harness. Place them on the bed next to you, then wait for me there. I’ll come in when I’m done.”

Louis expected Marcel to start moving immediately, but instead he just stared a Louis. His pupils were dilated; the only thing giving away just how much Louis’ words had affected him.

“Go on, love,” Louis added softly. That must have been enough to nudge him into action. Because he immediately hopped out of his chair and headed straight to the bedroom without saying anything else.

Louis had never washed dishes more efficiently in his entire life. He flashed back to his mum trying to get him to do chores when he was a child. If she only knew. The only problem with this plan was that he couldn’t tell if Marcel was finished with his tasks or not. Louis wanted him to have plenty of time, both so he could finish all of his assigned tasks, and so the anticipation would build.

Louis finally stopped what he was doing so he could listen for the ambient noises. When he didn’t hear anything, he figured Marcel had finished. Louis put the now dried dishes away, and headed for the bedroom.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him. Marcel was sitting on the bed with his head bowed. Just as instructed, he was wearing a beautiful, delicate pair of panties that had lots of thin woven black straps on his hips. His cock was hard, barely contained by the small patch of black silk and lace. The harness and rope were next to him on the bed. Louis didn’t know where to start.

“Wonderful,” he said. Marcel must have been wrapped up in his own thoughts, because his head shot up like he hadn’t heard Louis come into the room.

As Louis approached the bed, he saw that Marcel had also taken a vibrator out of his drawer. Louis raised an eyebrow at it but didn’t comment on it. He had said explicitly that today was about Marcel and what he wanted, to figure out what his limits were. They hadn’t discussed punishment, so Louis wouldn’t go there.

Realistically, Louis hadn’t let himself think about the fact that they would have to be dug out of their hideaway at some point. They couldn’t stay trapped on this mountain forever. He wasn’t sure how much opportunity they would even have to explore this dynamic between them. Part of him wanted to do everything all at once, get his fill of Marcel while he had the chance, because he acknowledged that he might not ever see Marcel again. Another part of him wanted to remain in blissful ignorance and pretend like he had all the time in the world. He honestly didn’t know what the healthier option was.

“Stand up,” Louis ordered when he was still a few feet away from the bed. He wanted to see the whole picture.

Marcel’s arms were crossed at the wrists in front of him, covering his body, but Louis could still see how toned he was. He was lean, but still a bit soft around the edges; places like his love handles that bulged softly over where the elastic from the panties dug into his skin.

Louis approached him carefully studying the lines of his face. There was something they hadn’t talked about that he didn’t feel comfortable doing without asking first, even if his hesitance did ruin how Marcel perceived him in the moment. Louis was confident he would be able to get the dominant tone back.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. Marcel’s eyes darted down to Louis’ lips as he nodded. Louis came closer. It was interesting, being clothed while Marcel wasn’t. He found it gave him a more immediate sense of the power that he looked for when he had tried out domming before.

Louis started by reaching out, taking one of Marcel’s hands and pulling it away from his body. When Marcel’s arms were relaxed by his sides, Louis very lightly dragged his hand up the length of his arm until he was high enough that he could cup his jaw.

Marcel was a few inches taller than him so Louis had to guide him down a bit until their lips met in the middle. His lips were plush and silky where he had licked them in anticipation. The first touch made something sharp zip through Louis and ricochet around his body. Determined to take their kiss to the next level, Louis coaxed Marcel’s mouth open until his whole body shifted as he leaned into it, bringing his hands up to grasp Louis’ waist.

Louis lost himself in it. Everything about his offer the night before and their discussion this morning had felt a bit removed from reality. They were being theoretical, talking it out. But this? This was real. Marcel’s skin was warm and soft under Louis’ fingertips. Louis hadn’t had a shave or a trim since two days ago, but when he pulled his lips off Marcel’s mouth to kiss down his neck, he leaned into it and Louis could feel him nuzzling his stubble.

Withdrawing a bit, if only for his own clarity of mind, Louis let his hand drag lazily down Marcel’s chest, fingertips dancing over the ridges of his stomach muscles until they just barely grazed his cock through the panties.

“These are beautiful, baby,” Louis hadn’t used “baby” yet, but when he heard Marcel’s breath catch, he knew he needed to stick with it. “They’ll look so nice with your harness. Will you hand it to me, please?”

He kept his voice and words gentle, but Marcel still rushed to do his bidding, letting the clasps of the harness clatter together in his haste.

Louis undid the large buckle that kept the main waist belt together. He held onto one side as he reached the other around Marcel’s body. When it was secure at his waist, Louis stuck two fingers between his skin and the leather, testing the tightness. Satisfied, he detached each cuff, and one by one reattached them so that they were around Marcel’s wrists but not attached to the belt.

He stepped back again to survey his handiwork. “Gorgeous,” he said out loud. Marcel preened a bit at the praise, now that he was loosening up a bit more. He truly did look like a fantasy come to life; the black leather and black panties creating harsh, contrasting lines across his body in the most flattering way.

“Climb back up on the bed, baby.” Once again, Louis heard Marcel react to the nickname, and because he had already turned around, Louis let himself smirk.

The panties from the back were even more beautiful. The straps wove together to create an intricate pattern, but more importantly, there was no fabric covering the back, only straps. Louis’ mouth went dry with want.

As much as he loved the view, he had plans. “Lay out on your back.”

Marcel turned around and unfolded his legs, eyeing the ropes and vibrator as he went, making sure he didn’t accidentally kick them off the bed.

Louis moved the vibrator farther up so that it was no longer in danger of falling off. He quickly pulled his grimy shirt and trousers off but left his pants on. He could feel Marcel’s stare as he kneed up on to the mattress.

Louis was grateful the bed was large, but it would be a bit more challenging to tie Marcel to it; all he had to work with was the two decorative pieces at each side of the headboard. Lifting one of Marcel’s hands up as far as it would go - with some ease for comfort - he began winding the rope from just below the leather cuff, around the headboard, and back again. When he had looped enough times, he brought the end of the rope down close to Marcel’s wrist and wrapped it around the length to secure it before tying it off.

“Color, baby?”

“Green,” Marcel rushed out. “Please,” he let out a strangled noise, eyes transfixed on where Louis was making sure the rope was comfortable.

Louis grabbed the other rope and did the same thing to his other arm. When he was done, he climbed down and stood at the foot of the bed. He didn’t say anything, just watched.

Marcel squirmed a bit, but eventually, he began to settle down. His chest was still rising and falling more unevenly than usual; his cock was even harder, escaping from the panties now making a pretty picture, hard and thick against his hips. Louis did his best to tamp down the fantasy that began to unfold in his mind of him putting a cock ring on Marcel and riding him until he begged for release. Another day.

Or at least he hoped it would happen another day. Preferably when they had a cock ring. And a condom.

 _Shit_. They didn’t have a condom. Marcel had expected to be alone, and Louis didn’t exactly carry one on him when he was on a job. That must have been why Marcel got the vibrator out.

That was fine, Louis could improvise.

The longer he waited without saying anything, the more he saw the changes in Marcel; he had visibly calmed down mentally, but his cock was twitching more, and a bead of precome had gathered at the edge of the panties.

Louis climbed back up and straddled Marcel’s torso, avoiding his cock. Louis kept himself suspended above him, with his weight balanced on one hand.

“You look so amazing like this. Spread out for me, ready to use as I see fit. Never had someone so gorgeous to play with before.” Louis reached his free hand up to cup the back of Marcel’s head, dragging a thumb along his cheekbone.

Marcel’s eyelids fluttered shut as he listened to Louis talk. Louis’ fingertips traced along his exposed hairline. “It’s helpful to have your hair pushed back like this, you know. The curls yesterday were nice, but this way it won’t get in your eyes. You can watch what I’m going to do to you.”

That made Marcel’s eyes fly back open. Louis laughed, “Like that idea, do you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Louis leaned down to give him a brief kiss before letting himself explore Marcel’s body a bit more. He kissed trails along his collarbone before sucking in sharply to make a bruise just below it over his sternum. Marcel’s hips bucked in response, and Louis gave himself a mental pat on the back for guessing correctly that he would enjoy a bit of pain.

He continued to alternate between soft kisses and harsh sucks as he moved back and forth across Marcel’s chest, never going lower than the harness around his waist. Louis could feel him getting worked up already so he wanted to slow down and draw the experience out. He ducked his head to lick across one of Marcel’s nipples before blowing on it, watching it tighten up in the cool air, before switching to do the same thing to the other side.

Straightening up, Louis pushed away and sat back on Marcel’s thighs. He traced his pointer finger around on his chest again, crossing over the very visible leather barrier and circling closer and closer to the dark patch of hair peeking out over the thin fabric of his panties. Marcel’s cock was barely contained at that point, so Louis hooked his finger into one of the black straps near his hip and began to pull the fabric down one millimeter at a time.

“Tell me about them,” Louis stated more than asked.

“What do--” Marcel paused as Louis scraped some of the elastic over his more sensitive areas. “What do you want to know?”

“What made you want to start wearing them?”

Marcel moaned as Louis fully exposed his cock for the first time. “About a year ago. A package arrived for my sister - a gift - from Agent Provocateur. She wasn’t expecting it, didn’t want it - didn’t like the color, told me to regift it. So I took it. I was curious.”

His story was even slower and more stilted than it normally would have been, and Louis thought his deep voice sounded lucious like that; raspy and strung out, peppered with noises coming from the back of his throat.

“ _Thief_ ,” Louis joked. “You liked them, you ordered more. How often do you wear them?”

“Only for special events at home.”

Louis gripped the base of Marcel’s cock lightly, “In public? How naughty.”

Marcel rolled his lips together, holding in a moan.

“Ah, I see,” Louis plied him with his words and with his hand at the same time. “You like to feel naughty, is that it? Wear a pair under a suit? Lots of other men in suits around you. I bet you wonder how many of them can see right through you. Know what you’re hiding. Silk and lace. Delicate things that keep you on edge, tease you all night.”

There was a place he could go - wanted to go - with this picture that he was painting, and he hoped Marcel was caught up enough that he wouldn’t necessarily notice or read too much into it.

“They might not know for sure, but I do. I know what you’re hiding under your fancy clothes. You’re ready, waiting for me, whenever I want. All it takes is a look and we sneak out. Do you know a place we can go, baby?”

Marcel nodded quickly, his wrists tugging at his bindings as he fidgeted like he couldn't decide if he wanted to pull Louis closer or push him away.

“When we get there I have you close your eyes,” Louis said, hoping Marcel would understand. He complied immediately. “You’ve been teasing yourself for so long - all evening - I want to give you some relief.”

Without any other warning Louis’ lips enveloped the tip of Marcel’s cock and slid as far down as he could go. Because of the element of surprise, he expected Marcel to lose control of his hips, so he kept one forearm across the tops of his thighs to provide some resistance and spare himself from choking too hard.

“Oh, God.” Marcel cried out as it faded out into a high pitched moan.

Louis pulled off, “Tell me when you’re about to come,” he demanded. As Marcel slipped farther into his head space, Louis let himself get a little less careful with what he said or how he said it, and take a more dominant tone.

He dragged his lips down the side of Marcel’s shaft until he hit the lace of his panties that were still bunched at the top of his thighs. While Louis desperately wanted to eat him out through the straps while he was wearing them, in their current position they were just in the way.

Louis dragged the panties all the way down Marcel’s gorgeous long legs, throwing them behind his back somewhere. He stopped to tease the hair around the base of his cock, admiring that it was neat and trimmed, but still fairly natural. He kissed down to his balls taking one in his mouth first before switching to the other.

Marcel had his head thrown back as far as he could go, the muscles in his neck taut against his pleasure.

Louis ducked down even further before configuring Marcel’s legs until Louis had one on either side of his head, lifting his hips as much as he could. He kissed Marcel’s perineum briefly before darting his tongue out over the same area, not quite touching his hole.

“Color, baby?” he forced out through the strain on his shoulders from holding himself up.

“Gr-- _Fuck_. Green,” Marcel declared, pleading. “Please, please, please.” Marcel continued to beg as Louis let his cheek brush the sensitive skin of his inner thighs before he returned to lick across Marcel’s rim.

Louis used his thumbs to pry Marcel’s cheeks apart, giving him better access.

Marcel was pulling harshly at the ropes now, presumably fighting to get a hand on his neglected cock. Louis remembered one of the things Marcel had said to him earlier; “There’s no sense in fighting it, love. Those ties aren’t going anywhere. There’s nothing you can do.” The tone was a bit ominous, but the effect it had on Marcel was amazing. He stopped fighting, but almost as soon as Louis returned to eating him out, he warned Louis that he was going to come soon.

Louis pulled away immediately. Through Marcel’s whimpers in protest, Louis praised him. “Thank you for telling me. You were amazing.”

To avoid his own temptation, Louis had to physically remove himself from the situation and climb off the bed.

He reached his hand down to cup his own throbbing cock through his pants. Fuck if Marcel tied up on the bed still wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever seen.

Marcel was watching him and grunted in his general direction, but didn’t say anything. Louis returned to the side of the bed, closer, but still maintained his distance. “What do you want, baby?”

“Want to see you,” Marcel bit out.

Louis reached for the waistband of his pants and pulled them off, kicking them away.

Marcel moaned a bit. “Can I?”

“Can you what, darling?”

“Taste you, please.”

Louis nodded and kneed up on the bed, this time near where Marcel’s head was resting on the pillow. “Since you asked so nicely.” He got into position, but Marcel didn’t dive in, he waited. “God, you’re so good. So well behaved,” Louis murmured, caressing his cheek.

Louis was worried, though, about the logistics of their position. “I don’t want to choke you.” Marcel let his bottom lip droop into a pout. “You have to be able to use your voice or your hands, love. Thems the rules. For now, I’ll just stay still. You can take as much as you’re able.” Louis waited for him to indicate that he understood. “Go on then,” he finished, indicating that Marcel could begin.

Marcel leaned forward as much as he could to take Louis into his mouth. The warmth of his mouth and the way his tongue danced around the underside of his cock was too much for Louis to bear for very long. He didn’t want to come from this - as amazing as it would have been - so he pulled away after a few minutes.

Marcel made noises of protest, but Louis cut him off with a question, a new plan formulating in his head. “Where is the lube?” he asked.

“The drawer.”

As Louis reached over he felt Marcel shift his legs on the bed, opening them wide again making room for Louis between them. Boy was he in for a surprise, Louis smirked again. His hand landed on the bottle of lube and he grabbed it, reseating himself over Marcel’s hips this time, the strong column of Marcel’s cock brushing Louis’ arse.

Louis leaned forward so that he was balanced on one hand again, eye level with Marcel who was watching him unblinking from his place on the bed. Unable to help himself, Louis dipped down and Marcel opened his mouth naturally, letting Louis lick into it. While Marcel was distracted by this kiss, Louis reached behind himself with lubed up fingers.

Louis felt around Marcel’s cock, deliberately letting his fingers brush over his shaft before Louis pushed past his own rim. Because he wasn’t trying to draw out his own pleasure, he opened himself up quickly. It took Marcel about thirty seconds to realize what was going on; Louis was sure all he had felt was direct contact with his cock before he connected the back and forth motion with what Louis was doing.

Marcel dropped his head back, breaking their kiss that wasn’t more than just blindly mouthing at each other by then.

“Lou, please,” he begged. Louis wasn’t sure what he was begging for, and didn’t even think Marcel knew what he was begging for, but the new nickname made his cock twitch against the taut muscles of Marcel’s lower abdomen.

Louis didn’t answer him purposefully, just let the back of his hand brush against Marcel’s cock as he finally determined he was ready. He picked up the vibrator and spread some lube on it.

Hissing as it stretched him out, Louis left it off for the time being, just allowing himself to get used to the feeling of being stretched out. It had been quite awhile since he had used a vibrator much less since he had been good and fucked.

“Please, please, please.” When Louis tuned back into what Marcel was saying he could hear the murmurs more clearly for what they were.

“You got this out for you,” Louis moaned as the angle changed enough that the vibrator began to hit his prostate. He twisted the flat base to turn on the vibrations. “But I wanted to use it for me. Don’t you think I should get what I want?”

“Yes,” Marcel hissed. “Should.”

Sparks of pleasure continued to shoot throughout Louis’ whole body and he was having difficulty focusing on the task at hand. “So I’m going to use this to get off,” he paused as his breath hitched and he began to feel the pressure of his orgasm building.

Louis stared down at Marcel making sure he made and held eye contact; “And there is nothing you can do about it. You just have to watch.”

Marcel blinked once. Then, he threw his head back and moaned pulling harshly at his bindings, his hips stuttering. Vaguely, Louis could hear the headboard creak, but he wasn’t worried about it, not when he was so close to the edge.

Lining up the base of the vibrator so that it wouldn’t cause any discomfort, Louis sat back on it placing it just above Marcel’s pubic bone. He tucked the fingers of his right hand under the buckle on the leather belt at Marcel’s waist, fisting it to give himself something to grip as he began to shift his hips.

With what Louis hoped was added vibration just over his cock, close enough that he would be able to feel the ghost of it through to his prostate - enough to tease, not enough to let him come - Marcel let out a shout before his voice out in an extended moan.

Louis shut his eyes, letting the targeted vibration on his own prostate flow through his body, allowing his building orgasm to wash over him as he gave a shout of his own and began to furiously jerk himself off as he came.

Come splattered across Marcel’s abdomen, contrasting where it landed on the black belt at his waist.

Louis shivered through the aftershocks for as long as he could before he became too sensitive. He quickly lifted up and pulled the vibrator out of himself, discarding it off to the side. His softening cock dragged through the trail of come a bit as he plunged forward to kiss Marcel again, using one hand to thumb away the few tears that were beginning to escape at the corners of his eyes.

“God, you were so good, baby. Felt so amazing, letting me use you.” He punctuated his praises with kisses along Marcel’s cheeks. “It’s your turn,” he whispered against Marcel’s mouth.

Louis scrambled down to the end of the bed. Marcel’s cock was hard as steel. He had held off like a champ so far, but Louis wasn’t sure he could tease him any more without an actual cock ring.

He gave the base of Marcel’s cock a squeeze as he reached for the lube. “You can come when you’re ready, love. Deserve it,” he declared before dragging the tip of his forefinger over Marcel’s rim.

As his finger entered Marcel, Louis also darted his tongue out to lick under the ridge on the head of his cock. From the way Marcel was canting his hips, he definitely wasn’t going to last much longer.

Louis continued to alternate between wrapping his lips over his cock and giving it small short licks, while fingering him steadily.

“More,” he heard Marcel murmur.

“More what, baby?” Louis asked.

“Another finger, _please_ ,” Marcel sobbed.

That hadn’t been the answer Louis expected, but it was an incredible alternative. He added a bit more lube before granting Marcel’s wish. Louis rotated his fingers, hooking them to massage Marcel’s prostate before taking him as far as he could down his throat.

“Lou-- _Fuck_. Lou. Come. Going to… come.”

Louis didn’t reply, just lifted off a bit to inhale before taking him back down. He quickly felt Marcel’s release hit the back of throat as he did his best to swallow all of his come.

He kept licking over Marcel’s cock to clean him up a bit until Marcel’s hips were twitching away from his mouth out of sensitivity.

Louis would love to see how far he could push Marcel; see how he would react to exploring his real limits. He sighed, not wanting to let thoughts about never seeing Marcel again seep into to his post-coital haze. Didn’t want to think about not being able to take Marcel to his own flat, lay him out in his own bed with his own toys.

Shaking his head, Louis looked up at Marcel. He was breathing unevenly, but his eyelids were closed. He looked blissful like that, his features still and relaxed.

While he had the chance, Louis ran into the kitchen as fast as he could to grab some water, fruit, and some almonds. He didn’t want to leave Marcel tied up for much longer, but also didn’t want to have to leave once he was awake.

Still reeling from his own orgasm, Louis had to right himself a bit when he got up off the bed. Maybe he needed a snack too, he chuckled.

Louis returned to the bedroom and dropped everything on the empty side table before setting to work on the knots. He quickly released both of Marcel’s hands, moving his arms around to get the blood circulating again. When he was done he climbed up on the bed before rubbing a thumb across Marcel’s cheek to bring him back to the land of the living.

“Baby,” Louis whispered. “You can go back to sleep soon, but first we have to make sure you’re alright.”

“Lou?” Marcel blinked up at him, eyes unfocused. He turned over to face Louis before pausing to look down at the leather cuffs that Louis had left on his wrists. Louis didn’t want to take them off before he knew Marcel was ready. Restraints could have different connotations for different people.

“Do you want to take them off?” he asked.

Marcel shook his head. “No, just don’t remember you getting my arms free.”

“Sit up, come on. You did so well, and I want to make sure you have something in your system.” Louis made a motion indicating Marcel should scooch. Marcel blinked at him a few more times, languidly processing his request, before he did as asked.

Louis took a bite of a strawberry before holding the bowl up once Marcel was in place leaning against the headboard. Smug satisfaction buried itself deep in Louis’ chest when he traced the path of the dried flecks of come on Marcel’s torso and harness, and saw how blissed out Marcel was. It once again smacked of possession. Possession that he had no right to feel.

But that wasn’t important right now. Especially when instead of picking up his own strawberry, Marcel just let his jaw hang open.

Louis chuckled before he grasped the hull of a the largest berry and held it to Marcel’s lips for him to taste. The juice dripped a bit and Louis watched the stain until Marcel was finished chewing and stuck his tongue out to lick it off. There was a pang in Louis’ chest that was slowly taking the place of the smug satisfaction he had been riding out and he needed to get ahold of himself.

He took a bite of another piece of fruit before holding out the same large berry for Marcel. They continued on like that until all of the snacks were gone. Louis’ veins buzzed with something, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but the act of feeding Marcel after the experience they had just shared, giving him sustenance after the pure trust Marcel had put in him was… intense.

While they were eating Marcel slid further and further down the duvet until he was practically horizontal again. Louis had promised him they could take a nap, so he replaced the bowl on the end table before he joined him. It was a large bed, there was plenty enough room for both of them, but Louis didn’t want to stop touching Marcel.

Thankfully, as they settled, Marcel flipped over and backed himself into Louis’ personal space. Asking without asking for Louis to cuddle him.

Louis casually threw and arm over Marcel’s waist and his hand landed near the buckle on the belt he was still wearing. Louis began to rub his thumb across it trying not to think about how easy it would be to get used to this.

 

When Louis woke up, Marcel was gone, but he could hear noises coming from the kitchen. The light from outside was dim. They must have slept the whole afternoon away.

Louis rubbed his eyes before grabbing his pants and padding out into the great room, headed in the direction of the kitchen.

Marcel was pulling even more containers out of the fridge, opening them all up, checking what they had. If he was just doing that now, Louis must have woken up when he had gotten out of bed.

Louis stopped to lean against the island and watch him work again. He was still wearing the belt of the harness and the leather cuffs, but had changed into an emerald green pair of panties that had a lot more fabric than the option he had chosen earlier which was a shame. He had put his glasses back on and his hair was mussed and piecey but still in a semblance of the style he had constructed earlier that morning.

There was a wonderful sort of dichotomy to his look. Everything below his neck was alluring and sinful, like he had walked out of one of Louis’ wet dreams from when he was a teenager. Above the neck though, he was a stereotypical nerd with his thick frames and careful style of dress. It was cute.

Louis liked being in on the secret, liked knowing what he hid from the world.

He wished he knew more about him, though. Every time they talked about normal, mundane things Marcel was tight lipped. Louis knew it probably had something to do with why he wouldn’t give Louis’ his real name. When he was ready he would tell Louis. Louis could only hope that he would be around when that happened.

“Kettle’s on,” Marcel said. Louis smiled, burdened by his own thoughts. He didn’t want to spread any of that burden around. He made himself a cup of tea and Marcel heated up some of the leftovers for them to nibble on straight from the containers as they sat in their now designated spots at the island bar stools.

When they were done eating, they both agreed they needed a shower. Louis wasn’t sure what the boundaries were now, but before he could fret over it, Marcel grabbed his hand and led him towards the master bath.  

Louis took his pants off and looked around while Marcel removed his cuffs, belt, and panties, not wanting to damage the leather. The bathroom was opulent for how modern it looked. “Is that a phone? In the loo?” Louis asked, incredulous.

Marcel giggled and shrugged before turning on the spray and pushing Louis through the open glass door until he was situated under it.

Louis got his hair wet and began to scrub at his body but when Marcel stayed against the far pane of glass, Louis looked up to see what was wrong.

Instead, he saw a predatory stare that gave him goosebumps. Without saying anything, Marcel approached him, close enough that Louis was forced to bring his hands up around Marcel’s neck as he received a kiss.

“Thank you,” Marcel said when he pulled away. “What you did for me today, that was amazing.”

It was Louis’ turn to blush as he ducked his head. He had never been thanked for sex like that before. Nothing had ever felt that good before, either. “Of course,” he replied.

Marcel pulled him away from the spray a bit before guiding him to face the shower wall, then immediately dropped to his knees. Mimicking what Louis had done earlier, Marcel used his thumbs and the palms of his hands to separate Louis’ cheeks before he dove in with no further pretense.

The sensation of Marcel’s tongue and the tiny scrapes of his teeth on Louis’ skin was hard and fast and wet and overwhelming. In no time at all Louis was crying out in pleasure and painting the glass in front of him with come.

His head rested on his forearm against the glass, giving him the perfect vantage point to watch as Marcel ducked around his legs, nudging him out of the way to snake his tongue out and clean Louis’ come off the glass.

“ _Fucking_ _hell_.” His cock twitched as he thought about getting hard again from that little display, but he was pretty sure Marcel had wrung him out.

 

Later, after a second round of leftover scavenging, they were cuddled up in the corner of the sofa watching Netflix again when a thought struck Louis.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked as he stroked up and down Marcel’s arm where they were tangled together.

“Sure.”

“What were you going to do up here all alone?” he murmured.

“Just enjoy the solitude,” Marcel replied. Louis hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t pry any further.

That night, Marcel asked him to sleep in the master bedroom with him, and Louis was powerless to refuse.

 

Unlike the day before, when Louis woke up the next morning, he had a face full of loose curls. He wasn’t lying when he told Marcel he liked the curls in addition to his gelled quiff, so he couldn’t help himself from reaching a hand up to comb his fingers through them, relishing in having a moment of ungelled softness.

Eventually, Marcel woke up and flipped over so they were face to face.

“What would you like to do today?” Louis asked softly, playing with Marcel’s fringe now.

“I kind of want to take a bath.”

“A bath?”

Marcel grinned, “Yeah, I brought a bunch of bath stuff with me but I haven’t gotten the chance yet. It’s… erm… big enough for two?”

“Given my experience bathing with you so far, I’m going to say that’s a definite yes,” Louis joked. Marcel blushed and covered his his eyes with his hand, but Louis tugged at his wrist. “None of that. It was possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Possibly?” Marcel challenged.

“Get out of here with your cheek.” Louis bit his lip around his laughter before sitting up. “Show me where this alleged ‘stuff’ is, I’m going to draw you a bath.”

Marcel reached out to pull him back down. “I can do it.”

“No, no. I’m going to do it, you relax.”

After Marcel showed him where to go, Louis gathered up his supplies and went into the master bathroom to fiddle with the taps until he figured out how it worked. When it was about half full, he dropped a chunk of something that smelled soft and pretty into the water and it began to fizzle.

He stood there mesmerized for a few minutes until he snapped out of it and poured in a few more ingredients Marcel had showed him.

When he was ready and the water was an opaque milky pink color with flowers floating in it - they must have all come from the chunky thing - he went and got Marcel, letting him climb in first.

Louis knew he had faults, he did, but one of the most prominent was his restlessness. Floating in the bath was nice. Marcel had his head tilted back, and he looked almost as relaxed as he had after both times Louis had seen him orgasm.

Floating was… fun. Sure.

He began to trail his foot along the outside of Marcel’s thigh.

“What are you up to?” Marcel asked without lifting his head.

“Nothing,” Louis replied, innocently.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Okay,” Louis shrugged, before he gave up and crawled over Marcel’s legs closing the distance between them. He sat down on Marcel’s thighs again - he was beginning to like it there - before reaching blindly into the water.

To his shock, he found Marcel already hard.

“Good morning to you too,” Louis teased.

Marcel blushed, but otherwise remained unaffected on the surface, his head still titled back with his eyes closed.

Louis wrapped his fist around Marcel’s cock and slowly, sensually, began to move his hand up and down in the water.

He kept his pace as steady as he could, he didn’t want to vary the speed at all, just wanted to stay tantalizingly even in his strokes to see how many it took for Marcel to come.

Floating was fun, but this was better.

Eventually Marcel began to grind his hips up to meet Louis’ hand. “Uh-uh,” Louis warned before sitting more heavily on his thighs. “No helping.”

Marcel made the most beautiful noises as he desperately tried to fight the regularity of Louis’ movements. In the bathroom with all the tile and glass from the skylight above them, his moans echoed more prominently than they had in the bedroom or the great room.

Louis’ hand job was consistently unhurried until finally Marcel couldn’t hold off and came hard, the muscles of his abdomen curling in on themselves like Louis had seen that very first afternoon when he had the vibrating plug inside himself.

By then, the water was beginning to get cold, so Louis pulled the drain and started to help Marcel out of the tub. Thankfully Marcel and his gangly legs were completely out of the basin and on solid ground, because out of nowhere - startling them both - the phone rang throughout the entire house, clanging around the tile much more harshly than Marcel’s gorgeous voice.

“Holy shit!” Louis cried out.

The phone continued to ring as Marcel stared at it. “Are you going to answer it?” Louis asked over the ringer.

“No one knows I’m here. No one _can_ know I’m here,” Marcel replied with a sleepy tone. Louis was beginning to notice a pattern; Marcel was absolutely useless after an orgasm.

“Okay,” Louis replied taking a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

He picked up the bathroom extension; “Hello?”

“Louis?” a tinny voice called over the line with plenty of static for flavor. But still, nothing could disguise that brogue.

“Niall?”

“Louis? Are you there?”

“Yeah, Ni. I’m here.” Louis’ heart began to sink, but when he glanced at Marcel he could tell there was a more immediate issue. Marcel - who was useless after an orgasm as proven - was beginning to sway on his feet in the excessive humidity of the room from the bath. “Hold on a minute.” He covered the receiver with his hand.

“Baby go lie down, please. You look like you’re about to collapse. I’ll be in soon.” Marcel looked hesitantly between Louis and the phone, but nodded and opened the door of the bathroom, letting a wave of cool air into the room.

“Ni?” Louis asked again.

“Thank fuck! Do you know how hard it was to find this fucking phone number? It’s protected by like eighteen different branches of the government and another ten layers of diplomatic immunity.”

Louis was also pretty sure he had seen it written on a Post-It note on the side of the fridge in the kitchen, but it didn’t seem like the moment to say that.

“Are you alright, mate?” Louis asked.

“Yeah, we’re good. Listen, we’re coming to get you. Just sit tight. We’ll get you out of there soon.”

“What?” Louis’ blood ran hot and cold. _Fuck_. “How soon is soon?”

“Half-hour maybe? That’s how long Bressie thinks it will take for the plow to get up the road to you. He says after that it should be simple.”

With every crackle of static Niall sent another jab of pain through Louis’ chest.

“Louis? Are you still there?” Not for very much longer.

“Yeah, Ni. Where should I meet you?”

“What? Can’t you just let us in the front door?” No. Louis absolutely could not let them in the front door. They couldn’t know Marcel was here. Even if Marcel hadn’t said so himself, Louis wouldn’t want them anywhere near him.

“Don’t be crazy, Ni. It’s bad enough I’ve been here the whole time alone.”

“Sure, sure. The basement then? The garage?”

“Sounds good. See you in thirty.” Louis replied. But it wasn’t good. It was horrible. Louis rolled his eyes at himself for being so childish, but he couldn’t help it.

Louis hung up the phone and went back to the master bedroom. When he walked in, Marcel was curled up at the very edge of the bed under the duvet.

“You have to leave.” That was all he said. A statement. A fact. Louis had to leave.

“Yeah,” Louis whispered, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He approached the bed and Marcel turned over on his back. Louis wasted no time lowering his body down on top of Marcel’s and drawing him into a deep kiss.

He poured everything he had into the kiss, every regret he had for being forced to leave.

Marcel was still sleepy from their bath and his orgasm, his eyelids visibly heavy as he stared up at Louis. His hair was still loose, so Louis reached up and brushed it off of his face, combing it back and leaving his fingers in it to mimic how he usually gelled it back.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said.

“I’m not.” Marcel drawled out in his syrupy voice that Louis was going to miss. “I’m sorry you have to leave, but I’m not sorry you were here.”

“I’m going to blackmail Niall into helping me find you,” Louis whispered. Knowing without asking that Marcel wouldn’t give him any more contact information.

“You can try,” he replied enigmatically.

Louis bent down to kiss him again.

“Lou?” Marcel asked sleepily. “Did you remember to pack the painting?”

Louis scoffed a bit before pressing their foreheads together. “Yeah, baby. I packed the painting.” He couldn’t believe Marcel was actively encouraging him to steal from the royal family’s home.

“And you’ll put it back soon?”

Louis nodded. “Soon.”

Marcel’s brow furrowed. “But probably not soon enough.”

Louis swallowed heavily around the lump in his throat. “No, I don’t think so.” Not soon enough that he would be able to see Marcel again.

“Okay.”

Marcel pushed up, extricating himself from the duvet and flipping Louis over all in one go until he was finally the one lying on top of Louis’ body instead of the other way around. He didn’t say anything else, just leaned down for one last kiss.

 

And that was that.

Louis could feel Marcel’s warmth fading almost immediately in the harsh morning chill, highlighted by the bright reflection of the sun. He could hear Bressie’s truck with the plow on the front as he pushed his way up the drive. The truck was strong enough that Bressie only had to backup and redirect against the weight of the snow a few times.

With the cling film wrapped painting in one hand, Louis lifted his other hand up to block out the sun when Niall’s face finally appeared.

“You ready?” he shouted.

Louis sighed. No, he wasn’t. But he didn’t really have a choice.

There was a job to finish. A normal life to live. Eons away from his mountaintop fairytale.

 

**\- - -**

 

**Three Weeks Later**

Harry rubbed the junk out of the corners of his eyes as he stared at his computer screen. Liam had walked out of his room not ten minutes before and Harry was grateful for the silence.

Whenever Liam’s boyfriend traveled for business, he always stayed with Harry a bit later at the end of the day. And Harry loved his friend, he did. But, he also needed the solitude.

He laughed when he thought about how his holiday that was specifically for solitude had been interrupted. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for it. He couldn’t even hideaway in a remote cabin on a mountain without someone crashing in on him.

His laughter and healthy sense of irony faded as he thought about Louis. Harry missed him.

Enough about the entire situation had been surreal that he had moments where he convinced himself that the whole thing was a massive hallucination.

He just… he wished he had been able to give Louis his real name. He had used one of his middle names in a fit of panic on the first day because there was always the possibility that Louis would figure out who he was. The public knew his name at least, but the majority of them hadn’t ever seen his picture.

Harry didn’t even know where Louis’ lived, where he was based now that he wanted to settle into a normal life. Harry smiled to himself whenever he thought about what Louis had said about his family and his desire to support them legally from that point forward.

Everything about their few days together had been amazing. Better than Harry could have pictured it - had he been expecting a strange man to drop in and interrupt his holiday.

But now, everything felt a bit dull. He was clicking around on the Agent Provocateur site again for the third time in as many weeks, and still he couldn’t find anything he liked.

Louis had taken the black strappy pair of panties, Harry had insisted. Pushing them down into the pocket of Louis’ trousers himself when Louis had refused, not wanting to take Harry’s favorite pair. He didn’t understand that Harry wouldn’t ever be able to wear them again, least of all with someone else.

Unsuccessful again, Harry slammed the lid down on his laptop and climbed into bed. Maybe tomorrow he would be able to pick out a new pair without thinking first and foremost about whether Louis would like them.

 

A week later Harry was staring at his lingerie drawer and was still uninspired. His tux was hanging in the garment bag on the back of his closet door ready for the charity ball he had to attend. At least the charity balls were much more engaging and fulfilling than a plain old state dinner with stodgy politicians.

He fingered a lacy mauve pair that were as good as any, he guessed.

When he was completely done up in his tuxedo, everything felt wrong. The lace edge of the panties wasn’t sitting correctly, the silk was bunching uncomfortably around his cock. Nothing was working, or making him feel any better.

When he arrived at the cocktail reception that would precede the dinner, he was glad it was in the palace’s art galleries, they were his favorite rooms after the library.

The first people he spotted were Liam and his boyfriend, which was infinitely helpful because it meant Harry didn’t have to stand there awkwardly avoiding everyone.

“Liam,” he said nodding.

“Harry!” Liam cried out, clearly already a few glasses of champagne deep. “Harry, this is Anton the curator, my boyfriend.”

Harry smiled at Liam indulgently. He had met Anton at least once before, but in fairness to Liam, he had totally forgotten that Anton was the palace’s curator. He held his hand out to greet him, “Lovely to see you again, Anton.”

“Your Highness,” the man nodded. He certainly had a charismatic smile, Harry thought as he insisted Anton call him by his given name.

“Liam, do you remember what charity is here tonight? I would like to give something but I’ve forgotten which one it is,” Harry asked, voice low, hoping his inquiry would be masked by the din.

“Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice,” Liam recited dutifully.

“Thanks,” Harry replied as he grabbed a glass of white wine from a waiter with a passing tray.

Anton cut in, and Harry recognized his stance - he had puffed his chest out and was smiling even wider - he was about to try and impress Harry as though that mattered; “I’ve actually recently acquired a Picasso for the palace, I thought tonight would be the perfect night to debut it. It’ll only be here a few weeks before it will be sold at auction.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose, “A Picasso? How marvelous.” Harry was genuinely intrigued this time.

Anton shifted his stance and began to lead their trio over towards a well lit wall in the place of highest prominence in the center gallery. “Here it is, isn’t it lovely?” Anton asked.

But Harry hadn’t heard a word of it, because over in the corner of the gallery there was another small clump of people. A woman in a smart black dress and some killer stiletto heels was facing the room, and seemed to be bickering with a man who stood at least a foot taller than her. Next to them was a brunette man who had his head thrown back laughing at something the other man next to him had said. To round out their group, standing with his back to the room, was Louis.

Harry choked on his wine.

Liam, ever the diligent - if slightly tipsy - friend and personal assistant turned around and immediately began fussing at him, “Oh my God, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry coughed, “Li, I’m fine.” He could feel himself turning red as people in the room, especially those crowded around the Picasso, began to notice the commotion. He wasn’t sure how long he had until Louis saw him. He wasn’t even sure if he was ready for that. Anton had the decency to grab him a glass of water as Harry got his breath back, but almost as soon as he made sure Harry was okay, Anton had walked away, distracted by some supporter of the gallery or other.

Or so Harry thought.

“Liam, Harry, come over here a moment,” Anton called out from the corner of the room. Liam grabbed Harry’s elbow and began dragging him towards where Louis and his companions stood.

The next few seconds felt like they lasted at least fifteen minutes as Louis turned around for the first time to welcome the newcomers. Harry watched his face change in slow motion from a bland friendly smile to utter shock. Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and ran his free hand over the stiff shape of his hair while he wondered what was so great about being a prince if he couldn’t have the floor open up and swallow him on command.

“Lads, Maren, this is my boyfriend Liam and his boss Prince Harry,” Anton beamed, proudly.

Harry was definitely going to be the first case of death by embarrassment, he could feel it. He usually never minded being introduced as the prince in small social circles of his peers like this, and cameras were forbidden in the galleries so he wasn’t as worried about his own exposure as much as he was worried about Louis.

Louis knew that his name wasn’t Marcel. Any second now, Louis would get mad, yell, storm off, tell everyone what had happened during those few blissful days on the mountain.

Anxious thoughts were cycling through Harry’s brain at a rapid rate.

“Harry, Liam, this is Niall, Maren, Bressie, Zayn, and Louis,” Anton pointed to each person in turn. Harry’s brain shorted out as Louis gave him the same smile he had given to Liam. Like he didn’t recognize Harry.

At the very last second, before Harry looked away, they made brief eye contact. If Harry hadn’t been so entirely focused on Louis, he would have missed the small wink Louis gave him right before he stretched out his hand.

“Prince Harry, was it?” Louis asked, with a barely-there lilt to his voice. He was teasing Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out as he brought his hand to Louis’. The first touch of his bare skin was as overwhelming as Harry had expected it to be as he thought about the things those hands had done to him.

Harry desperately wanted to collect himself enough to join in on the game, tease Louis right back, flirt with the man who made him feel better than anyone ever had before, who _knew_ things about him. But all he could do was stare.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Louis replied.

“Hi,” Harry said, dumbly. He couldn’t get his brain to engage.

“This group was an integral part in helping me acquire the Picasso,” Anton said, still trying to show off in front of Harry. “Louis especially did a wonderful job brokering the deal.”

Harry watched Anton for a moment as Liam asked him a question about the piece, desperately trying to avoid Louis’ eye, before what Anton said clicked.

The Picasso. The Picasso was a forgery. Louis had mentioned a ‘Zee’. That had to be Zayn, who must have used the pigment to forge the Picasso. All of the pieces began to fall into place.

The painting itself had a beautiful distinct cerulean wash, very obviously from Picasso’s Blue Period. Harry thought back to the painting Louis had stolen - _borrowed_ \- from the house in the mountains. Paris, early 1900s if he wasn’t mistaken, which would have been exactly when Picasso was there. It fit completely.

“Sorry, what did you say the name of the piece was?” Harry interrupted, rudely, as he turned his full attention to the painting. He heard Louis cough discreetly, and Harry was pretty sure he was trying to keep himself from laughing.

“ _Femme Assise_ , 1902. Or so they believe,” Anton replied.

“They?” Harry asked as he stepped closer to the canvas.

“The appraisers. I had them come in to look at it, as is standard operating procedure.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed. The more questions he asked, the more he could feel Anton start to get defensive, and the rest of the group of “brokers” began to shift, their body language becoming more and more nervous.

Except for Louis. He was relaxed, but his arms were crossed over his torso, one handed lifted up to cover his mouth as he continued to try and contain his laughter.

Harry was enjoying this, he liked having the upper hand.

“Do you know, this color... There’s something about it that’s so familiar. I can’t quite place it, but I know I’ve seen it.” The tension in the air skyrocketed. The only person who remained oblivious was Liam, unless he knew what his boyfriend’s side job was.

“Well,” Anton cleared his throat. Harry couldn’t wait to hear how he was going to try and save this. “It was his Blue Period. Perhaps you recognize it from other works at that time.”

Harry let a grin bloom over his face. Anton was right, of course, Harry did recognize it from another work at that time, it just wasn’t Picasso’s. He was going to let it go for now, let him think he was in the clear and decide what to do about discovery of the forgery later.

Harry didn’t necessarily want to send Anton to prison for fraud, he liked the guy, he did great work at the palace. But more importantly, Harry wasn’t sure what kind of repercussions there would be for Louis if the crime was found out. A report would only lead to an inquiry of how Anton got the pigment to pass the authentication, and a lot of red tape that no one needed.

“Yes of course, that must be it,” Harry replied with a knowing smile, and stepped back towards the group grabbing another passing glass of wine if only so he had something to do with his hands.

Their whole group shifted away from the painting in order to allow other patrons to get a closer look at it, and as they did, Harry felt a breath near his ear.

“You tart,” Louis scolded on a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Bressie almost shit his pants.”

Harry giggled and tried to lean into Louis’ warmth, but when he turned to say something, _anything_ to Louis, they were separated as another group of guests pushed by them.

It took Harry another twenty minutes to find Louis again. In the meantime he had been accosted by no less than five of his mother’s friends who all wanted to pinch his cheek and congratulate him on his degree.

Even then, he wasn’t the one who found Louis, Louis found him. Harry was walking by a corridor trying to locate anyone he recognized as having arrived with Louis when he felt a tug on his elbow.

“Come with me,” Louis whispered. He dragged Harry into a corridor, but it was one that Harry knew was heavily trafficked by the maids and stewards.

“No, Lou, not here,” he hurried them along the length of the corridor until they hit an exterior door that spilled out into the dim light of the garden.

Louis immediately crowded Harry up against the wall and dragged his head down into a bruising kiss. They were too rushed to be polite; it was too much teeth and Harry’s lips were chapped, but it was perfect.

“God, baby, do you know how much I missed you?” Louis groaned as Harry bucked his hips up off the wall and brought his hands down to grip Louis’ arse.

“I have an idea,” he chuckled into Louis’ neck as he felt Louis suck a bruise into his own.

“What color?” Louis asked desperately.

What? Harry wasn’t sure what he meant. They weren’t into anything serious enough that he was asking about Harry’s comfort level, but _that_ thought sent sparks of arousal dancing along his nerves. He could be asking about the painting, but that didn’t make much sense. The only other thing he could be asking about was-- _Oh_.

“Mauve,” he breathed out. “They’re mauve. Silk. Lace.”

Louis stopped and pulled himself back a bit, bracing his hands flat against the wall on either side of Harry’s torso. “Fucking hell. Can I see?”

They were outside. At the palace. Where he was… something important - he couldn’t quite remember when Louis was staring at him with so much hunger. There were so many reasons why he should say no.

He nodded.

Louis set in on the buttons of his tuxedo immediately, trying to undo them as carefully as possible and not mess up Harry’s shirt front. He left Harry’s bowtie and top button done, and Harry closed his eyes against the overwhelming idea of it fitting just like a collar.

He unzipped Harry’s trousers and pulled them down just far enough to get a peek at Harry’s hard cock trapped in the mauve silk and lace that he had promised. Louis dropped down to his knees in the dirt, and Harry just barely managed to spare a thought for his dry cleaning bill.

“Beautiful, baby,” Louis praised Harry’s cock, right before his tongue darted out to lick across Harry’s slit where it was poking out over the top of the elastic waistband.

Harry moaned. Louis was on his cock. _Louis_. Who Harry was convinced he had made up in his head and was never going to see again.

Louis hooked his forefinger into the panties and began to drag them down as well while he continued to tease Harry’s cock with short unsatisfying licks.

“If you’re good, and don’t make any noise, I’ll let you fuck my mouth,” Louis added as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Harry’s brain shorted out.

 _Good_ , he could be good. He _was_ good, he decided as he clamped his teeth down onto his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. Louis held the tip of Harry’s cock in his mouth as he looked up at Harry with his crystal blue eyes, through his gorgeous long eyelashes, and blinked once before he gave Harry a signal to say he could start moving.

Determined to be good, Harry started thrusting forward with small jerks as Louis pushed himself even farther down onto Harry’s cock. Louis’ throat pulsed rhythmically around Harry and everything began to hit him all at once. The warmth of Louis mouth was maddening as Harry’s orgasm began to build.

“Lou,” he whispered.

“Do you need to come?” Louis asked with feigned nonchalance. He smiled up at Harry like he knew a secret.

Harry nodded frantically, hips still jerking even though he wasn’t fucking Louis’ mouth anymore.

“You were so good, baby, you deserve to come. Can’t be messy, though.” Louis’ grin deepened as he paused. “Come on, Harry, come in my mouth.”

Louis ducked back down, again taking as much of Harry into his mouth as he could. Just as Harry felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Louis’ throat, he realized that Louis had called him Harry. Louis had used his real name. There was a chance Louis would be sticking around, and they actually had a shot at this being something long term. Harry would get to be with Louis.

White spots danced behind Harry’s eyelids as he came hard into Louis’ waiting mouth, which was no less overwhelming the second time. Louis had blown his mind again.

Harry leaned his head back against the wall and started chuckling. _Blown_ his mind.

Louis got up and began brushing off his knees. “Are you alright, baby? Why are you laughing? I didn’t suck your brain out of your dick, did I?”

Instead of answering, Harry flipped them around as fast as he could, pinning Louis against the wall this time to kiss him long and deep and slow. Harry could taste his own come on Louis’ tongue and it was the most amazing thing Harry had ever tasted. Louis tasted like him. Like _them_.

“Wow,” Louis said blinking when Harry pulled away.

Harry leaned down so their foreheads were pressed together, “Yeah. Wow,” he agreed as he felt his eyelids getting heavier.

“Still useless after an orgasm, I see,” Louis teased.

Harry giggled, fighting to blink his eyes open again, “It’s only been a month.”

Louis reached his hand up to run his forefinger along Harry’s hairline, tracing the shape of the quiff style that controlled his hair. “Felt like forever,” he said more solemnly.

Harry wanted to be as clear as he could be. Now that Louis knew his secret, why he was hiding his identity, he didn’t want them to be anything else hidden between them. “If I had it my way, it would never be that long again. Are you ready for that? For this?” he asked, gesturing towards the palace.

“If you are,” Louis grinned.

Harry bit down on his lip to contain his smile. “Yeah, I am.”

“Well that’s settled, then,” Louis said.

 

The next morning, Liam barged into Harry’s room the same way he did every morning.

“Morning Harr-- Oh, God!” he cried out, covering his eyes to block out the sight of the person that was lying next to Harry in the bed.

They were both mostly covered with blankets, Harry really didn’t know what Liam’s problem was.

“Hi, mate. I’m Louis. We met last night?” Louis said, waving from where he was leaning against Harry’s headboard.

Liam stared at him blankly.

Harry moved to sit up, but Louis kept his grip firm, so Harry had to lift his chin out of the blankets to address his friend. “Liam, I don’t suppose the stewards brought enough breakfast for two? Also Louis prefers tea to coffee, can you please let them know?” His request was only muffled by the blankets a little bit.

“Sure, Harry… Do you anticipate Louis being back again?” Liam asked as tactfully as he could given the circumstances. Harry fought down a serious case of the giggles.

“Definitely, Liam. Louis is my boyfriend,” Harry pointed out cheerily, before Louis leaned down to give him a peck on the lips where they were sticking out over the top of the blanket.

“Oh! Okay. Great. Wonderful. I’ll just… go, then.” Liam turned around a few times awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself, before he finally left the room.

Harry and Louis stayed frozen for another moment or so to make sure Liam was really gone before Louis took the edge of the blanket and threw it off Harry, pushing it down to the foot of the bed.

“Now where was I?” Louis asked rhetorically, flipping Harry over so that his cheek was squished against the mattress. Harry couldn’t support himself with his hands because they were bound by rope to the tops of his thighs. He knew exactly where Louis had been. Louis had been teasing him to within an inch of his life, promising to eat him out until he cried right before Liam came in and interrupted them.

Instead of teasing again, Louis dove right in, licking around Harry’s rim before pressing his tongue at the edge of the muscle.

Somewhere along the way, between Liam’s interruption and his own orgasm, Harry began sobbing.

Even later, when they were laying in bed skiving off their responsibilities for the day, Harry had his head resting on Louis’ chest listening to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I’m glad Anton had you steal that painting,” he whispered.

“Me too, love.”

“I’m still going to have to find a way to report it, but you know, without getting him in trouble,” Harry added.

Louis laughed, “I know that too. Maybe to get back at him, we should steal the Picasso forgery.”

Harry knew Louis was joking, he did. But he also knew that in the short time they had known each other, Louis had given him a taste of adventure, and now there was the promise of more.

“I can practically see the wheels turning inside your brain. Stop,” Louis scolded him with a tug at the looser hair at the nape of Harry’s neck.

“But Lou, just think,” Harry cried out pushing himself up so that he was looking at Louis. “No one would suspect me of anything! I can go anywhere. I’ve got access. It really wouldn’t be that hard.”

Louis’ eyes danced with mirth as he reached his hand up to cup Harry’s face in the way that Harry was getting used to, which he loved.

“I can tell already that I’m going to have to go to extreme measures to keep you out of trouble,” he said with a glint in his eye. “I’ll probably have to keep you locked up in here. Restrained, so you can’t escape.”

Again, even though he knew Louis was joking, Harry’s breath hitched. “Probably the only safe bet.”

Louis laughed outright before leaning up to kiss Harry briefly on the lips, “I’ll say.”

 


End file.
